Strippers and Secrets
by luv2read312
Summary: Clary Fray is as a dancer at Pandemonium—a strip club in NYC—to pay for art school. Jace Wayland is frat guy attending the same college. Their worlds collide when Jace finds himself at the club, entranced by her. Their night gets wilder when the two are almost killed by a hit man. Now they must find out which one of them is being targeted and why before the person strikes again. AU
1. Chapter 1

**This is first Shadowhunters novel, so I hope you guys like it! Disclaimer: I'm not the amazingly, talented Cassandra Clare. Read and Review!**

 **Chapter 1**

 **Clary POV**

Every strip club is different. And by default, every stripper is different. Some will do anything for a dollar, while others will take that dollar, rip it up, and tell you to fuck off.

I'm the second kind of stripper.

Well, I'm not a stripper per say. While I do dance proactively in order to get the little guy in your pants to give me money, I don't take off my clothes. The catch is: I'm usually not wearing much to begin with.

I know you're probably thinking something along the lines of: she doesn't respect herself or she must have had a bad childhood. While the latter is accurate, the first is categorically untrue. In fact the women in my industry have the most self-confidence than most women. We're the center of attention every night. Not to mention we get paid _way_ more than most other part-time jobs.

It definitely beats flipping burgers.

And I really need the money considering that I'm enrolled in one of the most prestigious Liberal Art colleges in America. But, I can afford it thanks to my job at Pandemonium, one of New York City's most elite strip clubs. Although, we prefer to call it a dance club, and us strippers are merely pole artists and dancers. And we can call ourselves that because we make enough money to.

The owner (aka my boss), Magnus Bane, basically runs this city considering his club is the most sought after and the most discrete. You wouldn't believe the types of high profile people who come in here. And, well, I can't tell you. So, with Pandemonium's degree of class and confidentiality, we are the most sought after strippers. And Magnus makes sure we're treated with respect and paid lucratively.

So get out of here with your cheap ass dollar bills. It's fifty every time you want to graze my thigh.

And for the most part, we don't get touched. Unless they're paying through the roof to get a lap dance from us. But, I don't do lap dances. Mostly because the girls who've been here longer, who are higher on the totem pole, get to claim them. Because lap dances pay out huge.

So normally I don't do lap dances. But, tonight was different. And that's because someone specifically asked for me.

But let me rewind a bit.

The night started off with our regular crowd: high-rolling playboys, CEOs conducting business, and other powerful men who came to us to escape. I was backstage trying (and failing) to attach falsies to my eyelids. That's when Maia came backstage with a sly grin on her face. She noticed my struggle and expertly attached them with her tweezers.

"Clary, you're hopeless at makeup," she said checking out the rest of my face.

"Hey, come on, I still look hot," I said, giving her a smoldering look and batting my false eyelashes. She giggled while dabbing makeup remover onto a cloth. She handed it to me.

"Clary, for you, less is definitely more. Your features are so striking already," she said.

"Really?" I looked into the vanity mirror. On a normal day, I was pretty in a wow-she-could-model-gardening-attire. My face was heart-shaped dusted with freckles (which I cover with lots of foundation). My eyes were a nice shade of green. The most striking thing about me was my curly red hair, which I spent hours straightening for my performances. The curls were cute. Not sexy.

However, my reflection showed someone much older than my age of eighteen. My cheekbones were contoured and highlighted. I was sporting a smokey eye that made my green eyes look electric. My lips looked fuller than usual thanks to the lip plumping red lipstick I used. My hair was voluptuous and shaped my face.

I looked like how I remembered my mother looking: beautiful and sophisticated. I looked away from the mirror.

"I think this look suits me well, though," I said. I added more highlighter to my cheeks so my complexion looked more dewy.

"Well, I'm sure your cougar look will go over well with the crowd tonight," Maia said, swiping a lip gloss wand across her plump lips.

I ignored the "cougar" comment and asked what she meant.

"A bunch of frat guys just came in. And you know how much they love spending daddy's money to think they have a chance with us." She laughed and tossed her hair back.

I laughed to cover up the dread I was feeling. We got frat guys in here now and then—the ones who could afford it anyway. They were more rowdy and more likely to break the rules and get kicked out. However, I was always on edge that I'd recognize someone.

Remember that exorbitantly expensive art school I attend? Well, we have a pretty extensive Greek life for being a liberal arts college. And the kinds of guys who can afford this college and fraternity dues, well they could definitely afford this club.

I tried to push my reservations aside. I was a part of the next act. Because I was still young and new to the club, I didn't have my own routine yet. So most nights I waitressed and did backup for the main girls here. Think of it this way: the other girls were the Victoria Secret Angels—the ones who walked the runway and were the face of the company, while I was one of the girls who modeled Pink stuff. I was still an Angel, but a less important one.

I walked out on stage, as the beat of "Monsters" by Ruelle started. My spot was the back left of the stage. I started dancing, gazing out over the crowd. The group of frat boys was near the front. The electric, pulsing lights of the club prevented me from being able to make out anything specific about them.

I moved seductively, letting the beat wash over me. When I danced, I felt free—like nothing could touch me. I moved forward during the chorus to join the other backup dancers as we moved forward while the main stripper, Seelie, was on the pole. She hated when we got closer, preferring that we'd stay in the shadows. And considering that she was the queen of this club (she pulled in the most business), we had to listen to her. But our choreographer, Meliorn (who normally worshipped Seelie) thought her solo looked better when we moved forward.

Now that I was closer, I could make out the frat boys. They all looked like carbon copies of each other, wearing button-downs and khakis. I was able to observe them from my spot because their eyes were on Seelie. I made my way through the faces, stopping only when I saw that one of them was watching me.

At first, I couldn't look away. He was so damn attractive. His hair was golden blonde and the lights played off it. His chiseled jaw and angular cheeks made him look like a sculpture by Michelangelo. But, what really struck me were his stunning gold eyes. His eyes, lustrous with desire, looked only at my face.

When I realized I was blatantly staring, I looked away. Making eye contact was necessary if you were a main dancer, but Seelie would kill me if she thought I was trying to flirt with _her_ crowd.

I glanced at the guy sitting next to him. He was just as striking as the guy sitting next to him, but his facial features were more ominous. He had icy blonde hair, and I couldn't make out the color of his eyes. But I did notice that he was watching his friend who was watching me. And then he made eye contact with me, and I felt a chill go up my spine. His eyes were obsidian black.

When you work at a strip club, you meet all kinds of sleazy guys. You get a sense of who's harmless and who could potentially be dangerous. And this guy made my gut twist. I looked away and concentrated on the routine.

After the song ended and I was backstage, it was then I was told someone requested me for a lap dance. I peeked out behind the stage to see who it was, hoping it was the golden eyes boy. My blood went cold.

It was the guy with the black eyes.

 **Can anyone guess who golden boy and black eyes is? Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, darling readers! Thanks so much for all the support! I was planning on releasing this at the end of the week; but since I got so many reviews and support, I decided to finish and release it sooner. Gotta give 'em what they want! Hope you enjoy!**

 **And as all of you figured out: Golden boy= Jace and Black Eyes= Sebastian. Not the most clever of nom de guerres, I know.**

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 **Chapter 2**

I went up to Maia, who was attaching black stockings to her garter.

"Hey, do you think you could take my lap dance?" I asked. I placed a strand of hair behind my ear.

Maia looked at me as if I was crazy.

"What are you talking about, Clary? Why would you give up that much money? Don't you need paint supplies?" she asked.

She was right. I had a project due soon, and I needed to restock my supplies. Plus, I had rent due. And anyone who's lived in New York City knows that rent taps your paycheck dry. And I couldn't forget the enormous amount of loans I was paying off to attend art school.

"I got a creepy feeling from the guy," I admitted. "And since he ordered a private lap dance, I'm not sure if I want to be in a room alone with him." Maia nodded knowingly.

"Sweetie, don't worry. We'll have muscle right outside the curtained room. If it gets out of hand, just shout."

I took a deep breath and shook my hands.

"You're right. Besides, I can handle myself."

It was true. Not only do I take kickboxing lessons (my workout and diet regime is strict in order to look good in lingerie every night), but also ever since I've escaped from my abusive household, I've learned mixed martial arts. The catch: I'm 5'2 and weigh 105. I'm naturally slim, which in this industry isn't always the best thing. And I've been trying to get that S-curve. I've added squats and deadlifts to my gym routine.

Anyway, despite my knowledge on how to kick someone's ass, my body isn't always the best weapon. This is why I also own a handgun.

But, my right hook would have to do if Black Eyes got too handsy.

I fluffed my hair and added a spritz of perfume. Maybe I was being too paranoid. Honestly, I was more nervous about the actual dancing. The trick was to give them to keep them wanting more (read: paying), while not giving them all they wanted within the first song. I hadn't actually given a lap dance before. I mean sure I've practiced with the other girls, so I wasn't completely inexperienced. But, I've never actually grinded up against a paying customer.

I headed to the private rooms. I walked out past the frat boys, who started cheering and whooping. I glanced around trying to find Golden Boy. I passed without seeing him. I shook my head. I had to keep my thoughts clear on seduction—not on boys who made my stomach flutter.

I nodded to the bouncer, Bat, who stood outside the velvet, curtained enclosure in a tight black t-shirt that barely stretched across his broad, thick body. We were all friends with the bouncers, but Bat was especially close since he had a major crush on Maia. And since I was Maia's best friend, he was very protective of me.

"Just say the word, Clary, and I'll rip the blonde's head off."

I smiled. "I'm sure I'll be fine." I took another breath and opened the curtain.

Golden boy sat on the velvet chair.

"Oh!" I said, suddenly flustered. Up close he was even hotter. He had incredibly long eyelashes that cloaked his tawny eyes. His skin was lustrous and tan as if the sun loved shining on him. His blonde hair was stylish but effortless. He had more structure in his face than I had in my life. My hands ticked like they usually did when I found something I wanted to draw.

"Do I have the wrong room?" I glanced outside the curtain. No other bouncers stood guard.

"Uh, no," Golden boy said, running a hand through his hair. I itched to see if it was as silky as it appeared.

"Sorry, I just expected..."

"Yeah, my frat brother Sebastian bought a dance for me," he said. While his posture seemed nervous, his voice was confident.

"All right," I said. I didn't need any more details. I just had to do what I was paid to do. I grabbed the remote that was attached to the wall and pressed a button to turn on my lap dance song: (insert song). I gave him a seductive smile and sauntered toward him, letting my silk robe slip from body and reveal my black teddy.

"Actually." Golden Boy held up his hands. "I don't actually want a lap dance."

I stopped in my tracks. Immediately, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment (which was hopefully concealed by the darkness of the room). So I did imagine him being attracted to me while I was onstage. He didn't even find me attractive enough to grind on his lap.

"I have a girlfriend," he said.

"Oh," I replied. I grabbed my robe and covered myself up suddenly feeling exposed and awkward. "Then why are you back here?" I channeled my embarrassment into annoyance.

"Sorry, it's just that my fraternity brothers would think I'm a pussy if I didn't accept the lap dance," he said, with a shrug.

I stared at him. His perfect features suddenly seemed less perfect.

"So instead of just explaining that you're committed to your girlfriend, you're trying not to lose face?" I asked.

"Exactly!" he said. "So if you could just stay back here for a few minutes that'd be great. Don't worry, you'll still get paid."

I shot him a look of annoyance. He made me sound cheap, like all I cared about was the money, which I guess was true.

"Look this is a real waste of my time," I huffed, crossing my arms.

"Really?" His eyebrows rose. "It seems like this is a great deal for you. You get paid and don't have to sexually exploit yourself to some random dude." He flashed me a smirk. I bristled at his comments. He was just another frat douche who thought poorly of strippers. How dare he try to belittle me for providing a service he'd gladly pay for?

"Yeah I'm the one sexually exploiting myself when you're the one paying to see me dance," I responded sharply. I was so close to walking out on this douchebag. But, the thought of rent, art supplies, and school payments kept me from leaving.

His mouth quirked up at my response.

"If I recall correctly, you weren't the one getting money thrown at her on stage. Wasn't that lovely performer Seelie the Queen?"

I glared at him.

"So it seems to be that you could use this _handout_ ," he said.

I shot him a poisonous smile. I knocked twice on the wall, sending a message to Bat.

"You know, I've dealt with arrogant pricks like you before. They think simply because they're flaunting cash they own the place. What you don't realize is that you're dispensable." At this point Bat came in looking burly and intimidating. "And I don't need your handouts because if it's not you paying, it's someone else. And honestly, I'm doing your girlfriend a favor by kicking you out."

Golden boy's smirk faltered slightly, and I felt a wave of triumph cascade through me. But then his eyes lit with sudden brilliance.

"You realize that if I'm kicked out, my whole fraternity goes. That's twenty dudes with loaded pockets that you'd be depriving your friends from exploiting." He tilted his head to the side and inspected me. "Are you that bad of a friend?"

I grinded my teeth, seething anger. The jerk had a point. All those frat douches were bringing in a lot of revenue tonight. And even though we could get enough business without them, it wasn't fair of me to ruin the easy money for the other girls. College boys have loose wallets and lowered inhibitions.

Before I could think of a witty response, someone outside the room distracted Bat. He turned back around and said, "Ginger, do you have a moment? The boss wants you."

Ginger is my stripper name. I know it's not the most creative nom de guerre, but I'm an Art major not an English major.

"Since you obviously don't care about me dancing, I'll be right back," I said to Golden Boy.

"Fine by me, Ginger," he said, trying not to laugh. I rolled my eyes at his emphasis on my name.

I walked out of the room and headed to the next private room. Magnus Bane, my boss, was waiting for me. He was dressed in a baroque suit with burgundy brocade fabric and gold embroidery. His cat eyes were adorned with swirling liner, and his impeccable styled hair was garnished with glitter. I always figured the excess glitter on him was an occupational hazard considering he worked in a strip club. But, I soon learned that he was just an effervescent kind of person.

"Clary, darling, I hope I didn't interrupt anything," he said with an impish grin.

"No, no. In fact, he's been so distracted that now we can charge him for two songs." Ha! Take that Golden Boy.

"That doesn't surprise me," he said. His unnaturally colored eyes were bright with mischief.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, it seems that this boy wants to _enjoy_ your company for the rest of the evening."

"What?" I blanched.

"Yes, he's already paid quite generously for you. Now this is by no means an obligation. If you feel uncomfortable with this transaction, I will swiftly shut it down. But, lest you forget: you'll have enough money by the end of the night to not worry about rent for a while. But, it is your decision."

My first instinct was to refuse. I drew the line at prostitution. I don't care if I have a million dollars between my legs. It's against my own moral code. And don't get me wrong, I have nothing against sex workers. The industry however, well, I don't appreciate how the workers are abused.

But there was something about this that I didn't understand. How could Golden boy have paid for my company when he was with me the whole time? And why would he want me for the night if he didn't even want me to give him a lap dance?

"I'll think about it," I said finally. Golden boy had a lot of questions to answer. Magnus stood up and sighed.

"Fine. Let me know your decision."

I left the private room and walked back to my own room. I pulled back the curtain and was shocked to see Black Eyes conversing with Golden Boy. Golden Boy's whole demeanor was shifted from when I last saw it. Instead of relaxed and confident, he looked tense and rigid like at any moment Black Eyes was going to strike like a snake. They stopped arguing as soon as I entered.

Black Eyes turned around at my entrance. He shot me a stunning smile that seemed to obliterate any skepticism I had about him. It made me weary thinking of how easily he could disarm the twinge in my gut.

"I'll just be going," he said in one of those sexy, whispered voices. As he passed me, his eyes appraised my body, and I fought back a shiver. Suddenly, all my reservations came flooding back. Sure I was used to guys looking at me like I was a piece of meat, but he looked at me like he wanted to wear my skin.

"So we have to talk," Golden Boy said. His voice was curt.

"I'm not having sex with you," I said, crossing my arms. He looked confused and a little insulted for a moment. "My boss told me about your evening plans, and I'm turning you down."

"No, no," he said, shaking his head. "I don't want to have sex with you either." He looked me up and down. "You're not my type. Plus I have a girlfriend, remember?"

"Great so this has just been a misunderstanding then? You're time is up. Hope to see you never." I gestured for him to leave. His comment about me not being his type stung a little. He didn't have to rub it in that he didn't find me attractive.

He didn't move. He raked a hand through his hair. His shoulders were still tense, despite the puckish look on his face.

"Look, my fraternity brothers got a little overzealous and surprised me with, uh, your company tonight," he explained.

"And the fact that you have a girlfriend didn't enter in their minds?" I asked, placing a hand on my hip. This whole situation was chaffing my nerves. Golden Boy shrugged, unconcerned.

"It's college," he said in lieu of a defense. "Regardless, they've paid, and I don't want to look like a pussy."

I stared at him, trying to figure out the person underneath the charade. He obviously wasn't comfortable with this situation considering how he acted when I walked in on with him with Black Eyes, and yet he wasn't doing anything to put a stop to it.

He addressed my hesitation. "Look, my family owns the hotel chain, Idris. I'll just rent us a room and then leave you alone for the night. So basically you get a free night in one of New York's most elite hotels, and you'll be getting paid without having to do anything sexual. What do you say?"

Part of me wanted to turn him down. This whole situation was wrong and weird. But the other part couldn't help but marvel at the opportunity I was being presented. I could have the night off in a fancy hotel and get paid as if I was pleasuring someone. And I've always wanted to stay at the Idris. It was famous for its glass construction. The whole face of the building is basically made up of windows.

So, I squashed the tiny part of me that was worried about this all being too good to be true and chalked this up to incredible luck.

It wasn't long before I realized how wrong I was.

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 **So what do you guys think of Jace's character? Is he what you expected? Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Just to let my readers know, I'll try to update at least once every week (sometimes more :)** **)! So follow/favorite the story so you're in the loop! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!  
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 **Chapter 3**

After telling Magnus about my decision (he was more than thrilled considering he got part of the cut), I headed to the backstage to get my stuff. When I looked at myself in the mirror—clad in lingerie and clearly straight of the poles—I realized how out of my element I was. Was I supposed to change into everyday clothes or stay dressed like a stripper to keep up the rouse? Was I supposed to put on a dress like Julia Roberts in _Pretty Women_? Or was I supposed to look classy so the hotel doesn't threaten to kick me out based on assumptions.

While I was deciding, Seelie came up to me seething with anger. Her wild scarlet hair tangled in all sorts of directions reminding me of Medusa's serpent tendrils. She fixed her sapphire blue eyes on me and snarled,

"So Miss Goody-Two-Shoes finally fell off her high horse? I heard those ridiculous college kids are paying for your company tonight."

I tried not to let her words get to me. Seelie always got pissed if someone scored a higher payout than she did. I covered up my lingerie with a tight emerald dress that hugged my curves. It was mostly sexy with only trace amounts of classy, but it would do.

"It seems a little out of your league, trying to handle multiple boys at once. What with being a virgin and all," Seelie said with a feral smile.

My insides boiled. In my industry, being a virgin is a rare thing. It's just that most people who've already had sex know how to exude their sexuality. And honestly, I get a lot of shit for it from the other girls. Partly because they don't understand my decision, but mostly because guys go fucking nuts when they find out their stripper is a virgin. I've never understood men's obsession with having sex with virgins. Why are men so ready to disappoint them?

To be honest, I wasn't sure why I was still a virgin. I've had plenty of opportunities. It has nothing to do with religion or anything like that. You have to understand that I'm from an industry where sex is used as a tool by someone to get something. It can be a weapon, a defense, a way to release tension, exercise, a way to make money. Basically sex is selfish. It's about power. And I'm holding out hope that it doesn't have to be, that sex can be more than what society has twisted and misshapen it into. I want to believe that it can be beautiful and vulnerable—an intimate affair between two people where honesty and openness is shared. And maybe I haven't found the right person. Or maybe what I'm seeking doesn't exist.

"Actually, Seelie, they're not paying me to have sex," I said with a smile. "One of the guys has a spending fetish. He's paying for me to have the night off." That was mostly true, but Seelie would never believe that. Stuff like this just doesn't happen in our industry.

My explanation wiped the smirk off Seelie's face. She stormed off, probably to complain to Magnus or Meliorn. After she left, Maia came up to me. A worried expression painted her face. The creases on her forehead reminded me of black sand, and I wanted to draw her as the beach. I was surprised by this urge to create something beautiful. It had been time since I wanted to draw anything lovely. And I couldn't ignore that this was brought on by seeing Golden Boy.

"Clary, is it true what I heard? Are you really going home with one of the frat boys? I don't think you quite understand what you're about to do. You won't ever feel the same after," she said. Her eyes were sad, and I wondered what past memory she was recalling. I gave her arm a squeeze.

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing," I said. I'm not sure why I didn't just tell her about Golden Boy's request. Maybe I was afraid that she wouldn't think it was fair. Or maybe I didn't want her echoing all of my fears that I kept trying to push away. "I'll be at the Idris hotel. I'll keep in touch." It was just good sense to let others know where you'll be.

I tightened my long trench coat and headed out the back door of the club. It led out into an alley. I made my way to the opening and saw a sleek black car sitting idly. I approached it cautiously. The black tinted window rolled down and an impatient voice said, "I know this is probably the nicest car you've ever seen but get in already."

I rolled my eyes at Golden Boy's comment. This car wasn't even close to the nicest cars I've ever seen. Been in? Well that was a different story.

I opened the door and sat down. Golden Boy was sprawled out, not concerned with taking up most of the back seat. He was drinking out of a metallic flask. I briefly wondered if his intoxication might change his mind about our plan. The thought made my palms sweat.

"Drive," he said, to the driver in the front seat.

The further we drove away from the safeties of Pandemonium, the more I realized the unpredictability of the night.

"So we're going to Idris right? And then we're never going to see each other again?" I asked, hoping my voice didn't trill with nerves.

"I wouldn't say _never_. Who knows maybe someday I'll run into you on some street corner waiting for business." His mouth quirked up at the edges. I grinded my teeth and clenched my fists.

"I don't see why you think I'd recognize you," I retorted.

"Because I'm unforgettable," he said leaning toward me with a tilt of his head. I instantly moved closer to the door, the car handle poking into my side.

We didn't talk the rest of the way. Golden Boy was on his phone while ceremoniously taking sips from his flask. I occasionally stole glances at his profile. I felt the familiar tingling sensation in my hands. They were restless. I didn't understand why my body reacted so strongly to his features. I mean yes they'd made Johnny Depp's face look pudgy in comparison. I imagined an angel with fluffy wings carefully sculpting his face, making sure to painstakingly carve out his cheekbones. It had to be painful, but the result was beautiful. I suddenly felt sorry for him, but I didn't know why.

"Can't get enough, Ginger?" he asked, not looking up from his phone. I blushed, realizing I'd been caught staring. Luckily, I was spared having to respond because at that moment we arrived at the Idris. I stared from the window at the multistoried glass structure. The moonlight reflected off the glass making it seem like it had an ethereal glow about it.

The driver opened his door, and Golden Boy untangled himself from the car in a swift, graceful movement. I slid across the leather upholstery, so the driver didn't have to open my door. I got out of the car far less beautifully than he did. Golden Boy was already through the revolving gold doors of the building.

"Hey... uh," I realized I still didn't know his name. I ran after him, teetering on my heels. If this weren't a snobby district, people would have been staring at me chasing the blonde-haired boy. But this was the Upper East Side. No one noticed anyone.

When I entered the hotel I didn't even have time to marvel at the sleek interior with minimalist furnishings. Everything and everyone in it seemed shiny in the way that only money could buy. I immediately felt like a saltine cracker among a plate of fine charcuterie.

I also realized that I was hungry.

I spotted Golden Boy's blonde head. He fit right in with this type of crowd. He was at the concierge's desk flirting with the attendant who might as well been a model for Vogue. I stalked over towards them.

"Thanks for waiting," I snapped, as I approached. Golden Boy didn't bother to look at me. He said something else to the girl in a low, sultry voice, which made her giggle and blush.

"Oh Monsieur Wayland," she said in a soft voice with a thick French accent. I felt a pull of a memory at the name "Wayland" although I couldn't quite place it. Instead of dwelling on it, I focused on not gagging at their interaction.

"Okay, well if you're going to do this, at least tell me what room I'm staying in, Golden Boy," I said. This time he looked at me. A bemused expression crossed his face.

"Golden Boy?" he asked.

I felt myself blush. I didn't realize I let that slip. Instead of responding, I shot him an aggravated look. At this point, all I wanted was to take a hot shower and put this new wave of creation to use.

"Claudine, will you get me two suites for tonight, mon ange," he asked. His voice was sickly sweet, and I wondered how many people actually fell for his charm. She apparently did because she handed over two keycards. This whole time she didn't even spare me a glance. Was I that little of a threat?

"Check outs at 11. If you stay even a minute longer we're going to charge you. And I doubt you could afford it," he said. He handed me a keycard as a way of dismissal and left. Despite his rudeness, I felt a weight lift off my chest. It seemed like this night wasn't going to be a disaster. Giddiness seeped through me, and I had to stop myself from skipping to the elevators.

I sent a quick text to Maia telling her I was safe. The elevator took me up the building. Since it was completely made of glass, one side I could look out over the twinkling buildings of New York City and on the other I could see the grand lobby of the Idris. I made out Golden Boy's head talking to a new woman, a much older woman. I didn't care; he wasn't my problem anymore.

I headed to my room, not bothering to hold back my excitement. When I threw open the door, I squealed. The room was gorgeous. The far wall was all glass, shades parted so I could look upon the city. The room had three components: the kitchen, the seating area, and the sleeping area. Each was designed as such. There was a large bed just waiting for me to jump on it. And after throwing my bag and coat on the floor, I did. When I landed, pillows and the cushy bed enveloped me. I imagined this was what clouds felt like.

I went into the bathroom. Everything was made of white marble. There was a large jet bathtub and a large shower. I turned on the shower and was happily surprised to find that the water fell from the ceiling like rain. I discarded my clothes and stepped into the steamy glass shower. The steam opened my pores, and it felt like getting caught in a summer rainstorm. I washed the thick layer of makeup off, and my face felt like it could breathe again. The shampoo smelled like coconut and honey. I didn't recognize the brand, but I was sure it cost more than my Suave at home.

After my shower, I dried myself off with their plushy towels that might as well have been blankets, and then wrapped myself in a complimentary robe. My skin felt glorious next to the soft cotton. Embroidered beneath the lapel were the hotel's name and a weird looking rune—the symbol of the hotel.

I walked out of my room, followed by a gust of steam. I stopped in my tracks and let out a yelp. Golden Boy was lying on my bed looking through something.

"What are you doing here?" I screeched, closing the robe even tighter around my naked body. Despite the fact that I waltz on stage most nights wearing lingerie, I felt very exposed. I glanced at what he was looking at. "Is that _my_ sketchbook?"

I ran to him and tried to pluck it out of his hands. But, he just held it higher.

"You draw some creepy stuff," he observed. I jumped up and tried to grab it. I was clearly at a disadvantage since Golden Boy was so much taller. Thinking quickly, I got on the bed and jumped on his back. Luckily, the robe separated my bare skin from touching his body. He seemed to hardly notice the added weight on his back. Was I really that light or was he just freakishly strong? The added height allowed me to pull the sketchbook from him. I immediately slipped off of him and created a distance between us. I looked at the sketchbook. It was open to a drawing of a membranous demon that had red eyes and a mouth with a thousand pointy needles. I quickly shut the book and placed it back in my bag. When I finally glared at Golden Boy, I saw that his eyes danced with amusement.

"Does that cost extra?" he asked, referring to my display of acrobatics.

I wanted to shout at him. I wanted to shake him. I wanted to scream at how him opening my sketchbook was an invasion of privacy, how I didn't let anyone look at these drawings—not even my art professors. But all I said was, "What the hell are you doing here?"

He casually laid on the bed, getting himself comfortable. It wasn't reassuring. He picked up the crystal glass sitting on the nightstand next to him. It was full of a copperish liquid. He took a sip.

"It seems that my stepmother is punishing me for my recent stunt," he explained. While this made no sense to me, I didn't want to investigate. All I cared about was him leaving or me putting on actual clothes. "And so she _says_ that because I don't actually inherit my shares of the hotel until I'm 21, I shouldn't be using the hotel as my own personal house." His face was relaxed and his tone was casual, but I could detect resentment filtering through. "And so she banned me from giving out hotel rooms to my friends."

I tried to hide my disappointment. That meant he couldn't give me the room tonight.

"I guess I'll just get going then," I said.

"Oh no you don't, Ginger," he said, stopping me. "I'm not allowed to give out rooms, but I am allowed to rent one myself. So as long as I'm here, you're allowed to be here. And if you want to get paid, you have to stay the whole night. "

"But why?" I said shocked. This whole situation made no sense. "We're not going to do anything, so why do I need to stay here?"

"To keep up the rouse," he said, talking down to me as if I was a child. "My fraternity brothers think you're going to be here the whole time, and so you will be." He turned on the TV as if the discussion was over. Some celebrity news show was on. But that didn't deter me.

"They wouldn't even know if I left," I explained, hoping he wasn't drunk enough to see reason.

He laughed without humor.

"They'd know. They have eyes everywhere," he said flatly. My mind automatically went to Black Eyes, although I wasn't entirely sure why. A shiver ran through me.

"That's creepy," I said, tightening the robe. Golden Boy didn't respond, distracted by the TV. I turned to it.

"A new video is being released of the notorious playboy, Jace Wayland, getting into a drunken fight at a club in upper Manhattan. He was later arrested and then released after the charges were mysteriously dropped. With Jace's 21st birthday coming up and his shareholder meeting, we wonder if these recent incidences will play a part in him inheriting the full rights to the Idris. Will the shareholders want such an irresponsible bad boy controlling the future of the Idris? His lawyer, Hodge Starkweather, was unavailable for comment," said the woman on the TV.

I glanced at the screen and saw Golden Boy being shoved into a cop car with a bloody lip. I glanced at the same guy sitting in the bed staring at the screen with disgust.

"Jace Wayland," I said aloud. Suddenly, I remembered all the gossip I've heard about the man in front of me: all the fights, the arrests, the endless stream of women, and the worst fact of all: he goes to my college.

"Damn, I preferred Golden Boy," Jace said dryly and finished his drink.

I tried to calm myself down. My college is big. And it's in New York. There's no way Jace would ever know who I actually am. I hardly knew anyone there. I just knew about him because he's a legend on campus. After tonight he'd forget about me like he does all women, and I could go back to being a struggling artist and a part-time stripper without fear that everyone will learn my secret. I wasn't ashamed about being stripper, but I didn't want it affecting my career as an artist. People tend to ostracize women who use their sexuality to get ahead.

"So we're both staying here tonight then?" I asked. I knew the answer, but I had a teeny bubble of hope that maybe—

"Yup," he said.

And all the hope vanished. I grabbed my bag of clothes and headed into the bathroom. No need to be naked around a drunk guy who was paying me to stay with him tonight. That was another variable I didn't need to add to the confusing equation.

I pulled out the light blue cotton tank top and silky shorts that I brought. I was under the illusion I'd be alone tonight, so I didn't think to bring respectable clothes. And since all I had was my lingerie, I wouldn't be able to wear the proper undergarments underneath. I placed the pajamas on, distraught at how much skin was showing. In my lingerie, I was powerful. In my pajamas, I was vulnerable. And so I wrapped the white plush robe around me again, feeling instantly better that I was covered.

I took a deep breath and left the bathroom. I had no idea what to expect for the rest of the night.

* * *

 **A stripper and a playboy stuck in a hotel room for the night, sounds like the beginning of a porn plot. But that's not how Clary rolls, so let's see where it's going to go instead now that we know the identity of Golden Boy...**


	4. Chapter 4

**I so appreciate all the reviews! You guys are wonderful! Keep on reviewing and following the story!**

 **Chapter 4**

* * *

When I walked back out, Jace was on the bed flipping through channels. I figured that I'd get through the night by not interacting with him. I grabbed my sketchbook and sat in on the couch. I opened up the sketchbook and flipped past all the demons, monsters, and things out of nightmares to a blank page.

The emptiness seemed to mock me. And part of me was tempted just to call on the dark feelings I so often had just to put something on the page. But I resisted. I had to draw something beautiful. I had to put something wonderful between these macabre pages. I snuck a peak at Jace. He seemed bored, his eyes dull. But the way his body was positioned on the bed—one leg up with his arm resting on it and his back slightly hunched—spoke to me. There was something about the ease that was betrayed by the restless movement of his fingers that made me want to draw him doing something fun. So I started drawing.

"Whatcha drawing," came Jace's voice from right behind me. My pencil flew from my hand as I turned around in surprise. Before I could hide the drawing Jace grabbed the sketchbook.

"Give it back!" I yelled, trying to grab it from him.

He studied it with an almost thoughtful expression.

"An angel?" he asked.

"Uh yeah," I said, surprised by the tenderness in his voice. I watched him study the picture. It wasn't close to being done so it didn't look anything like him yet. He noticed me staring at him, and I saw his face change. He handed back the sketchbook with a smirk.

"Maybe you should stick to stripping," he said.

"Maybe you should mind your own business," I snapped. After spinning around, I sat down and opened my sketchbook. I tried and failed at ignoring his warm presence behind me.

"Well, I'm going to order room service," he said. "Feel free to get something too," he added, off-handedly.

I was surprised by his offer. I looked at him waiting for some rude comment about how I would surely jump at the chance to eat gourmet food. He saw me looking.

"What? Do you need help reading the menu?" he asked.

I glared at him. It was nice to know he was going to live up to my expectations. I looked over the menu, and my stomach growled as I read through all the amazing options. I ended up ordering something kind of simple: burger and fries. But, I was having mad cravings. When I told Jace he said, "Would have thought you didn't eat much." He gave a pointed look towards my thin body.

"I eat," I argued. "I probably eat more than you," I added for good measure.

"Sure thing, Ginger," he said, as if he most definitely didn't believe me. He dialed a number for room service.

While he talked, I tried to remember everything I heard about him in college. I heard his name discussed all the time. I never actually put a face to the name because I spent most of my time in the art studio developing projects. And since I was also a working student, I never had time to go to parties or to chitchat about cute frat boys. I think I remember someone saying he was a business major, which was weird that he'd choose a predominately Liberal Arts school to pursue that kind of major. He was in a fraternity, that much was obvious. I couldn't recall which one. It was Sigma something. Sigma Cow? Sigma Kay? Sigma Chi! That was it! That was a really popular frat on campus. Everyone always wanted to go to their parties. I remember my freshman year roommate got an invite to one only to be turned down at the door because she wasn't hot enough. Yeah, they were douchebags.

I vaguely remember sitting in my dorm with friends, and they were gushing over a magazine with his face on it. When I first saw it, I didn't think he was cute. He was sweaty and obviously wasted. He had his arms wrapped around two girls, who looked like their lives could never transcend past that point. I remember feeling angry that he could waste his life away because he was the son of some business tycoon. It didn't feel fair.

I glanced over at him. He clearly hadn't changed much. We didn't talk after that, but that didn't mean he wasn't a nuisance. He had been flipping through channels and turning up the volume to obscene levels to see if it annoyed me. But, I managed to block everything out as I worked on my drawing.

I had been painstakingly detailing one of the wings when I heard Jace get up from the bed. I glanced over in time to see him stretching. His shirt lifted slightly, exposing his midriff. I looked away from the indented lines of his defined abs. I glanced at the angel's blank stomach. I would have to make some changes.

"Want a drink?" he asked, walking over to the mini fridge. I responded no. He laughed. "Figures. You probably can't handle your alcohol. I bet you're piss drunk after two beers."

I bristled at his comment.

"I can handle my alcohol. I've had plenty of experience," I said. And it was true. My life hasn't always been great. Alcohol has been a means of escape, a way to forget. I shook my head. I didn't want to let those murky feelings overwhelm me.

"Yeah right," he scoffed. "When?"

"I drink all the time in college," I said. After the words slipped from my mouth, I wished I could take them back.

"You're in college?" he asked. The disbelief in his got on my nerves—how dare he assume I wasn't smart? "Where do you go?"

My annoyance turned into cringing. I couldn't have him know I went to his college. Then he'd be one step closer to figuring out who I really was.

"Forget it," I said, hoping he'd drop it. But my hopes were crushed when he plopped down on the couch next to my chair.

"Do you go somewhere around here?"

"You know what? I will take that drink," I said, choosing the lesser of two evils.

"Okay." He stood up and went to the mini fridge. "What's your poison?"

"Uh, Vodka Red Bull," I said.

He wrinkled his nose as he brought me the airplane bottles and a Red Bull.

"So your college—"

"Let's do shots," I said, quickly interrupting him. And like a typical college boy, he agreed without hesitation.

And I continued suggesting shots until he let the college thing drop. That was six shots ago. And to say I was feeling it would be an understatement. I knew my limits and how to handle my alcohol, but I wasn't used to drinking shots so quickly. Luckily, I could tell Jace was feeling it to since his cheeks were flushed slightly. And maybe it was the alcohol or just the deceitfully trusting look on his face that I asked,

"Why did you choose me tonight?" My lips curled into a smile while I took a sip of my mixed drink.

He looked at me with a sudden intensity that I stopped smiling. I took an involuntary look at his lips. They were two perfectly curved crescents. My hands itched again, but I couldn't be sure if I wanted to draw them or touch them.

"Maybe I thought you were special," he said, his voice low. It sent a flutter of feelings through me, feelings I hadn't felt in a long time. I felt myself leaning in. But then he said, "I mean you were so off rhythm while you were dancing. I felt sorry for you." His smirk didn't even have time to make it to his face before I hit him with the throw pillow next to me. He was still for a moment, like a cobra about to strike.

"You're so dead," he said, flashing me a feral smile. He grabbed the pillow. Quicker than I thought was possible since I was drunk, I jumped over the couch and avoiding getting whacked with the pillow. He followed me, and we squared off. My heart was racing wildly. He threw the pillow at me. My slightly slowed reflexes allowed me to duck, the pillow barely grazing my head. But, that's what he wanted me to do. While I was avoiding the pillow, he lunged at me, tackling me onto the bed.

He pinned me down and grabbed one of the bed pillows. He began whacking me with them, while I was powerless to stop him. Despite everything, I was laughing hysterically.

"I surrender! I surrender!" I said, through breathless laughs.

A look of triumph passed across his face, as he threw the pillow away. He looked down at me, and that's when we both realized he was still pinning me down. My arms were held above my head. In all the chaos, my robe had opened exposing my thin pajamas. Jace's eyes raked my body hungrily, and a delicious shiver ran through me. When his eyes met mine, they were blazing. I wanted nothing more than for him to lean in and...

A knock at the door awoke me from my reverie.

"Room service," came a voice from the other said.

"Get off me," I said. The spell was broke.

Jace obliged. But before he turned away, I noticed the look of disappointment that crossed his face. I quickly tightened my robe. I couldn't believe I considered kissing that jerk. I really had to stop drinking.

"Come in," Jace called. He sat at the edge of the bed. I headed back over to the table where my drawling lay unfinished.

I watched the man roll a cart in our room with silver dishes. The smell of the food hit my nose, and my stomach growled loudly. Jace looked at me in amusement.

"Right there is fine," he said pointing to the table where I was sitting. He came over and stood by the couch.

As the hotel employee placed our dishes down, Jace grabbed my sketchbook before I could move it.

"Wouldn't want to ruin your drawings," he said.

"Give it back, Jace!" I reached for it, my back to the hotel employee. Jace held it out of reach, smiling. I watched his smile quickly fade and horror take place. He pushed me out of the way suddenly. I heard him shot.

I landed on the floor. When I looked back, I saw the hotel employee and Jace were struggling. That's when I noticed the shiny object in the guy's hand.

He had a knife. And he was currently trying to plunge it into Jace.

"Ginger, run!" Jace shouted.

It was clear that the hotel man was much stronger than Jace. Jace was holding the man's arm away, but the man kept pressing down. I knew I had to do something before that dagger pierced his heart. Without considering the consequences, I ran up to the guy and jumped on his back. I tried to grab his arm with the knife. That distracted him, which allowed Jace to move out of his deathly grip. The man managed to swing at Jace with his other hand. It connected with his jaw, and Jace fell. Then the man rammed me into the wall. Pain shot through my back, and the wind got knocked out of me. Then he bucked me off of him, and I went flying. Then he turned on me, coming at me with quick speed.

I quickly rolled away and managed to avoid a deathly blow. Luckily, I was thrown where my purse was lying on the ground. I reached out to it trying to grab it. Before I could grip the straps, the man was on top of me, holding the knife high ready to plunge it. He had a large nose and scruffy beard. But his eyes were cold, letting me know that he wasn't going to hesitate to kill me. I let out a scream, desperately trying to reach my purse.

Before the knife landed in my chest, Jace's tan hand gripped the guy's arm and held it back. He tried to twist the guy's wrist, but he was intent on killing me. The momentary distraction allowed me to reach over and grab my purse. I felt around for the cold metal object and then aimed it at him.

The man, seeing the gun, elbowed Jace in the ribs. Jace let go of him. And then the man ran out the hotel door.

I looked at Jace who was panting, his eyes and hair wild. His lip was slightly bloody. He was holding his stomach where the man hit him. I was lying on the ground, still holding my gun. The reality of the situation hit me. We were almost just murdered.

* * *

 **Oh yes: sexual tension and attempted murder. What a great combo. Now the question remains: why was someone trying to kill them?**


	5. Chapter 5

**So thrilled with all the reviews and follows/favorites! I love the feedback because it helps me know how you guys feel about the story (also I'm really vain and like the compliments). So keep it up, and I'll keep on writing. Also like I mentioned before, I like to upload my chapters once or twice a week, so follow for alerts when I do that because it's not always on the same day(s).**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

The next hour was a blur. Jace immediately called the hotel manager, the woman I saw him talking to earlier, and his lawyer, Hodge Starkweather. They wanted to assess the situation before involving the cops. Cops tended not to like me, so I was relieved by their discretion. However, I wasn't stupid. They weren't going to protect me. So, I called the only detective I could trust.

"I'm Detective Luke Garroway," Luke said, entering the hotel room. Luke was tall and defined. He wore a pair of glasses, but that in no way diminished the commanding presence he had. Luke and I went way back. He was friends with my mother before she passed. He was the one who helped me get away from my abusive father. I owe him everything and trust him more than anyone.

"Who called the cops?" the older woman said in a shrill voice. She had black hair that was pulled back into a tight bun. Her face was pulled taut with it. She'd probably been pretty when she was younger, with her blue eyes and raven hair, but now a permanent scowl seemed to fixate her face. She stabbed a manicured nail in my direction, "It was you, wasn't it? How dare you try to compromise the integrity of this hotel, you little tramp!"

"That's enough," Luke interrupted. I clenched my fists, trying not to respond. "I was called because there was an attempted murder. That trumps the worries about your hotel."

"We have this situation handled, detective," the woman said.

"Maryse," Hodge interrupted her. "I'm sorry, detective. We had every intention of calling the police after first hearing the situation."

"I'm sure," Luke said. Disbelief laced his tone. "What exactly happened here?"

"This hooker brought in all her dirty mud, that's what happened. It was probably her pimp who tried to kill her because she couldn't pay," Maryse said, shooting daggers with her eyes.

"Hey!" I exclaimed. But Luke held up his hand before I could defend myself.

"I'm sure you don't want to label her as a hooker considering the fact that this man," he pointed to Jace, who looked like he wanted to throw up, "would be in trouble for paying for her services. And _that_ would compromise the 'integrity' of this hotel," Luke said. Maryse's face turned white.

"No, we know she's not a hooker," Hodge said calmly. "She is merely an associate of Mr. Lightwood's."

"Good, we're on the same page it seems," Luke said steadily. I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn't a hooker, and I didn't want to be construed as one. I mean, sure, I was getting to paid to be with Jace, but there was nothing sexual about it. I thought back to him pinning me to the bed. A flush went through me. I shook my head, as if I could erase the memory.

"So then I'm sure we don't have to involve any other channels of authorities?" Hodge asked.

"As long as everyone cooperates, we shouldn't have to take them to the station," Luke responded.

"So we can keep this matter private?" Maryse asked, her voice tense.

"It's not my job to keep this out of the papers," Luke said sternly.

"We will of course deal with the paparazzi at our end. We however need your assurance that your staff will keep matters confidential," Hodge said.

"You don't need to worry about things at my end," Luke said with a glare.

At that moment, a police officer walked in the room carrying grey blankets.

"So sorry I'm late!" he said. His glasses were slipping off his face. When he saw me, he broke into a smile.

"Simon!" I squealed. I threw my arms around him. He dropped the blankets and enveloped me.

"Hey, Clary," he whispered.

I met Simon when while he was interning at the police department. I spent a lot of time at the police station when I first ran away from my father at age 15. I was always so scared, so paranoid that I'd turn around and see his black eyes, that I would feel his hands reaching for me. So I spent most afternoons at the station finishing homework and sorting paper work for Luke.

I eventually ran into Simon during one of the many trips to the coffee pot. I was immediately weary of a young boy, but my guard disappeared almost immediately after I started talking to him. He was so genuinely nice, the kind of guy who'd bring you chicken soup when you were sick (which he did for me once or twice). He never pried into my life, not even when he caught a glimpse of my scars. And when I was sad or scared, he would spend hours just sitting with me until I felt safe again. It was no surprise that I ended up confiding in him. I told him about the abuse I suffered. He was my first real friend.

"The blue suits you," I said with a smile. He was trying to work his way up to detective, but he was still a police officer. I was relieved to see he was on my case.

He smiled. He grabbed the blankets he dropped and wrapped one around me. I didn't realize how cold I was until I was swathed in warmth. Simon's brown eyes suddenly flooded with worry.

"You don't think your dad was responsible for this do you?"

I swallowed and shrugged my shoulders. I wasn't sure what to think. I always suspected that Valentine was looking for me. In his mind I'm his property, and he needs to control me. But, would he send someone to kill me? I know he doesn't love me. But for some reason I figured he'd rather capture me and torture me rather than outright kill me.

I glanced over at Jace. He was looking at us with a funny look on his face. It was then I realized that Simon was still protectively holding me.

"I don't think that's a good idea." I heard Luke's voice. The three of them had been conversing about the best way to handle this situation.

"Since we're not sure who's the target, and we don't want this getting leaked to the media, this is the only way to keep both of them safe until you find out who's responsible," Hodge said calmly. Maryse's arms were crossed, and her angry expression matched Luke's.

"It's only temporary until we know the threat is neutralized," Hodge said, tyring to appease both Luke and Maryse.

Luke glanced at me.

"Only if Clary is okay with it," he said. I cringed at the mention of my real name. Hodge approached me. He was a spindly man. But, he looked like a trained lawyer: patient and intelligent. There was something trustworthy in his demeanor, like he knew how to approach small animals without frightening them.

"We want to offer you protection," he began. Simon's hands squeezed around me protectively. "You will stay at the Lightwood's manor with Mr. Wayland under the watch of a diligent security team. We will keep you safe while Detective Garroway finds out who is after you both."

I didn't like the idea of being forced to stay with them. I gave an involuntary glance at Jace. He looked horrified at the idea of bunking with me.

"Do I have to?" I asked, looking at Luke.

"It's your safest option, Clary," he said, somewhat reluctantly. "Until we find out who's after you both and to what extent," He gave me a meaningful look. "It's best you go in hiding."

I understood his point. If Valentine knew who I was, knew where I worked, then he'd easily be able to find me again. Hiding out in some random manor might be the best solution, until they found out if it was Valentine after me or somebody random after Jace.

"What about school? What about my job?" I asked.

"Unfortunately, you won't be able to continue your, uh, excursions, at Pandemonium. However, since you will be cooperating with us, we will gladly take care of any financial issues you may have. The same goes with your school."

I shook my head.

"No way. I get you guys not wanting me to strip, but I need to go to class. My education is the most important thing to me," I said. I didn't care how dangerous it was. There was no way I'd compromise my plans for getting a degree. That degree was my ticket to freedom, my ticket to a normal, happy life where I could get paid to do what I loved.

Aggravation flashed across Hodge's face. He didn't like that I was ruining his perfect plan.

"Where do you go to school?" he asked, his patient shield erect again.

I winced. My secret identity was dissolving before my eyes.

"I go to the Institute of the Mortal Instruments," I said. "I'm in the art program."

I stole a glance at Jace. He seemed shocked if anything, but that could have been from the night's events. Hodge smiled.

"Well, that's where Mr. Wayland goes as well. I'm sure we can work out some kind of security detail that allows you to go to classes." He paused. "So have we come to an agreement?"

My stomach twisted nervously. I wanted to run. I wanted to run far away from this hotel, this city, this life. But, realistically I knew I couldn't run. Because if Valentine _was_ after me, then I wouldn't get far. I tried to calm my racing heart. I had to stop assuming it was my father who sent the assassin. It could have very well been someone after Jace.

I looked at Simon. He must have been able to read my concern because he squeezed my shoulders reassuringly.

"I'll make sure I get on your security decal. I'll be with you this whole time. And you know Luke has already dedicated his life to hunting down that bastard. We'll keep you safe, Clary," he said. His face was so sure and so sweet, I believed him.

"Okay," I said.

Hodge smiled again. Maryse still sported a look of anger. And Jace, well, Jace's face was unreadable.

* * *

 **Jace and Clary are going to be bunkin'! So Clary suspects Valentine is after her, but there's no telling what long list of enemies Jace may have. Also, do you guys like Simon's and Luke's characters?**


	6. Chapter 6

**There's a lot of exposition in this chapter so get ready! Hope everyone is enjoying the story. I know I enjoy everyone's reviews!**

 **Chapter 6**

* * *

The Lightwood's manor was quite a feat of architecture. It reminded me of a gothic cathedral with its tracery rose window with and tall spirals. I didn't have time to admire the exterior before being ushered through wrought-iron gates and into the mammoth church. The inside was just like the outside: stuffy and uninviting. It reminded me of a pretentious museum or a relative's house who had plastic sheets over their furniture.

Hodge led me to the room I'd be staying in. Luckily, it had some degree of comfort. And it was bigger than the entirety of my apartment. Most of the furniture was heavily wooded Victorian. The bed was massive with a large duvet and completely covered with pillows. I could make a while new bed with all those silky pillows.

"If you need anything, Clarrisa, don't be afraid to ask." With that he closed the wooden French doors.

Before I could even get a moment to myself, my cell phone rang.

"Clary?" came Luke's familiar voice. "I'm sorry we didn't get more time to talk tonight. The Lightwoods and their lawyer seemed intent on sweeping you under a rug as soon as possible. I didn't even get a chance to ask how you were feeling."

How was I feeling? That was a good question. Up until this point I felt numb to everything around me. But now that I was alone, the enormity of the night's events hit me like a train.

"I'm..." My lips started to quiver. I was potentially being hunted by my abusive father, who wanted me dead. I wasn't allowed to work for fear that my father would find me again. I was stuck in a house with people who didn't give a shit about me and only wanted me around so that I wouldn't tarnish their perfect image. And the only person I wanted to talk to was the only person I couldn't because she was dead.

My eyes welled up.

"I'm doing fine," I said. I put on a smile, hoping it would filter out the sadness.

"Clary..." Luke said, not buying it. Before he could get out any attempt at consoling me, there was a knock at my door.

"I have to go, Luke. I'll call you later," I said quickly. I wiped my eyes and hoped my cheeks weren't blotchy and puffy. "Come in," I called.

The door opened, and I was surprised to see a beautiful girl. She was tall and had long, raven hair pinned into a tight bun. I immediately envied her body. She was the kind of girl who made people in the streets stop and stare. She was effortlessly stunning. The problem was: she looked like she had a giant stick up her ass. She wore a knee-length cream skirt and a white button-down that was covered in a pressed, light pink cardigan.

She walked in like she owned the room, carrying a pile of clothes. She had an air of mystery about her, and I didn't know if I should be intimidated or excited by her presence.

"Hi, I'm Isabelle," the girl said. Her voice was sharp like a whip, but had a lyrical quality to it. "So you're the new girl who's gotten Jace in trouble."

Her lips were curved into a smile, but I was positive that she wanted to rip my throat out with her teeth.

"I don't think Jace needs any help getting in trouble," I said sweetly. Isabelle's thin eyebrows raised.

"I'm sure you provoked him," she said. She placed a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes at me.

"Who are you?" I asked, wondering why this random stranger was berating me for insulting Jace.

"I'm Jace's sister. And the person in charge of making you look less..." She motioned to the dress I had put back on in favor of the cotton robe and thin pajamas. "Whorish."

Now it was my time to raise my eyebrows.

"Oh sweetie, you're one of _those_ girls aren't you?" I asked. She shot me a glare.

"What girls?" she asked taking the bait.

"Let me guess?" I said. "You don't have many girlfriends? You find it hard to get along with them?" I sat on the bed crisscrossed and watched her face coil with anger. "You operate under the assumption that girls who do not meet your standards of femininity are inferior. And when you belittle them, you get this insufferable sense of superiority, which is the only happiness you feel considering you're forced to keep that stick up your rigid ass because, and I'm just guessing, the demands of your family."

Isabelle was shocked to say the least, her mouth agape.

"Careful, sweetie, women like you would think your mouth hanging open is 'whorish,'" I said.

Isabelle's mouth snapped shut. She dropped the pile of clothes on the floor and left the room with a huff.

"I guess I don't have many girlfriends either," I said with a click of my tongue.

I grabbed the pile of clothes Isabelle left and shifted through them. There were a couple of tennis skirts and argyle sweaters. I was more interested in the flannel pajamas. I went into the adjoining bathroom. The bathroom was decorated in a similar Victorian-style design. There were tufted benches, a claw-footed bathtub, a pedestal sink, and intricate gold finished mirror frames.

I looked at myself in the mirror. My green eyes were wide as saucers. There was slight bruising along on my cheekbone and pain in my ribs when I took a breath. But, it was all superficial damage. After a little makeup and some Tylenol, I could put this whole night behind me.

The fear in my eyes, however, exposed the truth.

I pulled on the flannel pajamas. I felt like I was drowning in the cotton fabric. I rolled the pants and the sleeves several times before my limbs were finally free. But they were warm, and I hadn't realized how cold I was until I put the pajamas on.

I left the bathroom and grabbed my sketchbook. After jumping on the bed, I opened the book up to the last sketch: Jace.

My fingers brushed against the face. But I couldn't seem to add anything more to the page. I was afraid I would ruin the one beautiful thing I had created in years. I flipped to the next blank page and started drawing.

When I sketched, the world around me dissolved. It was just me, my imagination, and the canvas, which acted as the facilitator for the feelings within me. Sometimes I became absorbed in drawing something specific. Other times I let my mind wander and the pencil roam the paper on its own. Soon an image began to take shape, and I was startled when I realized what, or rather _who_ , I was drawing.

I threw the sketchbook across the room, wanting it as far away from me as possible. I hadn't seen that face in three years. And now it was sitting on the floor, staring with impossibly dark eyes. I remembered how I avoided those eyes for years. Every time they were trained on me, I learned to cast mine downward. If he even imagined defiance in my green eyes, I became his personal punching bag.

Valentine hadn't always been abusive. But, he never loved me. No. He put up with me for the sake of my mother. My mother was the one who loved me. Valentine was jealous of how much my mother loved me, and so he resented me for that.

He was in and out of my life while I was growing up. He worked for the city's seedy underbelly, so he was always off doing illegal shit. But when he was around, I didn't get support from him. The first time he hit me, my mother was at work. I had dropped a glass of orange juice, and the glass shattered all over the floor. Before I could warn my father, he stumbled in and stepped on a piece of glass. He was furious at both the mess and my clumsiness. And suddenly I felt a sharp pang against my cheek. I was shocked at first, and then I started to cry. It was then Valentine realized what he did. He quickly tried to console me, apologizing in a sweet voice. Honesty, it was the nicest he'd ever been to me. He took me out to get ice cream and a new toy. I thought it was because he loved me. I learned later that it was bribery.

He didn't hit me after that, so I didn't feel the need to tell my mother. But soon after, she became sick. And then everything I did put my father in a mood, whether I slammed the front door too loudly or burned dinner. He would yell at me and grab a fistful of my hair, pulling until tears welled in my eyes. He told me I had to be strong for my mother and stop screwing up. And so I blamed myself—it was my fault that Valentine was so angry. I needed to be better.

I was fourteen when my mother passed. And with her passing went my father's soul. He became a monster. He was physically and emotionally abusive, calling me worthless and hitting me. And I believed him. For a year I dealt with his torment, knowing that as soon as I turned 16 I could emancipate myself from his care. But things took a turn for the worse as his criminal activities spilled over into my life. He was running some sort of drug and prostitution ring. And one night when his goons were over, one of them took a special interest in me. It was then Valentine recognized me as a woman and not a nuisance. When I realized what he intended to do with me, I went straight to Luke for protection.

The problem with Valentine is that while he's a horrible person, he's a damn good villain. He's kept his activities under the police radar. Not even I knew enough to testify against him. Worst of all, Luke believes he has people in the police force working for him. That's why I wasn't put in witness protection or anything like that. Luke helped me get away from him and set up an apartment for me, but it was all unofficial.

It took a while for me to stop living in fear. For the first couple of months, I hardly left the apartment. I finished my high school classes for the semester online. Simon even brought me food since I was too afraid to go to the grocery store. It wasn't until Luke finally convinced me that I decided to venture out.

He came to my apartment one night (bringing me more paint supplies). He could tell I was miserable. Every creak of wood and noise from the hallway made me jump. He tried to console me by saying Valentine had gone underground. All his illegal activity seemed to stop. But, that didn't make me feel any safer.

"Clary, I know you're scared. But you can't let Valentine dictate your life anymore. You should go outside, make friends, go back to high school. Do normal teenager stuff. You owe it to yourself."

Luke was right. After that I started going out more. I took self-defense classes. I even started taking art classes. I hung out with Simon more. I went to go see his band, which at the time was called Utopian Turtletop. I was actually introduced to Pandemonium by one of his friends' friend. And slowly I started to make a life for myself.

And if this attack was from Valentine, then everything I had worked so hard to build would be ruined.

* * *

 **So what do you think of Isabelle? I have special plans for her, but she has to start off as uptight and rude. And what do you think of Clary's back-story? I'll get more into specifics throughout the story, and her journey to becoming her more confident self. Review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello, perfect, darling, readers! Sorry for the late upload. Hope you enjoy! Also here's a quick timeline for the events that occurred. So the attack was on a Saturday night, and this chapter takes place on a Sunday. I'm not sure if I'm contradicting myself, but I don't think I am.**

 **Chapter 7**

* * *

I woke up in the morning sweaty and tangled in my sheets. The nightmares were back. They all involved demons all shapes and sizes with black eyes. One thing was always the same though: at the end of the dream, the demons always morphed into Valentine.

I took a few deep breaths. I had to stop getting ahead of myself. The attacker could have been after Jace, and I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. That's what I had to believe before I completely fell apart. That's what would get me through the day.

I got dressed, choosing one of the less hideous sweaters and pleated skirts. I'd have to ask Hodge about going back to my apartment for clothes and my sketching materials for class on monday.

I ventured out of my room suddenly feeling out of my element. I was walking around a stranger's house not sure of where I should go. I came upon a large library and peaked my head inside. I gasped when I took in the sight of the columns of books all shapes, sizes, and colors. My hands twitched wanting to capture this moment, this feeling.

At the far end of the room was a large desk where Hodge sat reading. I sighed with relief that I had found him on the first go around. I walked into the room and cleared my throat slightly. He looked up from his desk and gave me a patient smile.

"Ms. Fray, I hope you slept well?" he said.

"Uh yeah. Thanks." I said. "Has there been any word on the identity of the attacker?"

Hodge shook his head. "Sadly no, my dear, but no need to be disheartened. We'll find out soon enough, and you'll be back to your own life."

"Yeah speaking of my own life: I need to go back to my apartment and get some things like books and clothes. So I wasn't sure what the procedure would be?"

Hodge nodded. "We have a security decal on standby. They will escort you to class and whatever other events are a necessary risk. I would, however, suggest that you get everything you need from your apartment now as it's probably in your best interest to stay away from there."

"How long do you think I'll be staying here?" I asked, feeling queasy at the prospect of being on lockdown here.

"Oh, I wouldn't think any longer than a couple of weeks. I'm sure New York's finest will get to the bottom of this." He stood up and patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. "There's a car waiting outside to take you where you want. But," his hand tightened on my shoulder. "there will be absolutely _no_ talking to the press or anyone about the events that occurred last night. Do you understand?"

The frailness in his body was gone. He looked less like the old man that gives out full candy bars to a cunning hawk. I swallowed and nodded. The congeniality returned immediately.

"Good!" With that he walked out of the library.

After a few moments I headed out, kicking myself for not asking for a map or something to help me get around. I walked randomly down the hallway until I found a grand staircase. I headed down. Before I stepped off the last step, someone knocked into me causing me to fall. When I looked up I saw Isabelle's long hair in a low ponytail swishing out of sight down the hall. Cursing, I lifted myself up. Clearly, I had an enemy. And worst of all, I was stuck living with her.

I followed where she went and found myself in a large kitchen. It was the most modern thing about the house with granite counters, cherry oak floors, all stainless steal appliances. My stomach growled. I looked at a basket of green apples sitting cheerily on the island with misery. How was I supposed to live here if I didn't even feel comfortable eating any of their food?

A noise behind me alerted me to someone entering the kitchen. I whirled around to find a tall boy with professionally styled black hair and stunning blue eyes. His bone structure was incredible, and I found myself at a loss for words as he pinned me with intense eyes. But to my surprise, he didn't say anything. He just moved past me, grabbed an apple, and headed out the kitchen's outside door.

I glanced out the door's window and saw that he was getting into a black car Hodge had described earlier. I quickly followed him outside and got in the back seat of the car. I gave him the address I needed to go.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice sharp.

"Uh, I need to go get a few things." I said.

"And why do you think I care?" he snapped.

"Aren't you supposed to take me wherever I need to go?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"I'm not your driver," he said. He turned around so he could fully glare at me.

"I'm sorry," I stammered. "I didn't know."

As I made my move to get out, someone opened the front seat door and sat down. My eyes widened as I realized who it was.

"Let's go, Alec, before Hodge sees me," Jace said. It was then he noticed Alec glaring and turned around. Surprise flitted across his face, followed by thinly veiled disgust. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Leaving," I snapped. I made grabbed my bag and reached for the door handle.

"Shit, Alec, drive. It's Hodge," Jace said, scrunching his body. Sure enough Hodge had exited from the same kitchen door and was talking on his cell phone. Any second now he would look up and see us all in the car.

"But what about _her_ ," Alec said, with as much venom as possible.

"Just drive!" Jace ordered. And so before I could get out the door, Alec slammed on the pedal, and the car accelerated, throwing me back into the leathery cushion. I glanced back at Hodge. He didn't notice us, absorbed in his phone call. He looked angry, but before I could discern much else, he was out of sight.

Jace sighed with relief and sat up straight.

"Thanks, man," he said. "I hate this house arrest shit."

"No problem," Alec said. Talking to Jace, Alec's voice changed. He sounded much happier like he was glad to be doing Jace this slight favor. I saw him glance over at Jace, but Jace was looking out the window.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt this adorable exchange, but I have places to go and Hodge promised me a ride, so take me to 14th and 7th," I said.

Alec shot me a glare through the rear-view mirror.

"No way, Ginger," Jace said. I could almost hear the smirk through his voice. "We'll drop you off at the subway station."

"Jace, we can't do that," Alec said.

I was surprised by Alec's reservations. And definitely not thrilled by them.

"If we let her go, she'll go to the press and try to get money out of this whole situation."

I said, "I'm not going to do that" at the same time Jace said, "She's not going to do that." I looked at him, surprised that he came to my defense. But he kept his gaze out the window.

"Jace, we can't take any chances. This is your reputation we're talking about. If she went to the press, you could lose your inheritance," Alec said. He shot me another glare through the rear-view mirror. His resentment of me was becoming a little clearer.

"Look, I'm not going to tell anyone. So be some good boys and let me out of this car," I said.

"No," Alec said. This time Jace didn't come to my defense.

"Fine. Then I expect you guys to take me around like my own personal taxi service," I said, crossing my arms. I was not about to be stuck in this car all day. My life was in shambles, and the only way I could cope was by following a schedule.

"That's not going to happen," Jace said.

"Oh yes it is. Otherwise, I'm calling Hodge and telling him exactly where you are, Jace. And how you deliberately ditched your security team," I threatened.

Jace turned around to fully glare at me. It was the first time I got a good look at his face since that night. He looked like the Golden Boy from the magazines: smug and perfect. I would've thought he wasn't affected by last night if it wasn't for the dark, purplish circles under his eyes. I wondered if he was sleeping as poorly as I was.

"You wouldn't," he said. His lips pulled into a challenging smirk and his eyes sparkled, his face animating beautifully with mischief.

We had done this faceoff before when I was giving him a faux lap dance. He had won then, so I couldn't lose twice. I just had one problem: I didn't have Hodge's phone number.

I fished my phone out of my bag. We were playing chicken, and I was banking that he'd give up first. He watched, not breaking a sweat. I dialed a random number, taking my time and letting each beep echo throughout the car.

"It's ringing," I said. "I wonder what Hodge is going to do to you once I tell him you broke the rules—hello? Hodge?"

"Fine!" Alec said, slamming on the breaks. I flew forward, only to feel the resistant of my seatbelt. "I'll take you where you want to go. Just don't tell Hodge about Jace."

"That's a good boy," I said as I hung up on the imaginary person. I shot Jace a look of triumph. "14th and 7th _please_."

I heard Alec sigh, and he turned the car around.

"Why'd you do that, Alec? Hodge wouldn't have done anything. He works for us remember?" Jace said. Annoyance laced his tone. Clearly, he didn't accept defeat well.

Alec sighed. "He'd tell mom, and thenyou'd be in real trouble."

"Whatever," Jace said. He put his feet up on the dashboard. He didn't notice Alec looking over at him with a worried expression, but I did.

For the next twenty minutes, I waited silently. Jace spent the time flipping through the stations, never keeping a song on for more than twenty seconds. Alec was clearly bothered by Jace's silence, for some reason needing his approval. When we finally pulled up to the right street and Alec realized where we were, his silence ended. We were in front of Pandemonium.

"There's no way you're going in there, Clary," he said. I was surprised that he knew my name. I guess both the Lightwood siblings had been informed of who I was. He locked the car doors, as if that would keep me out.

"Look, I left one of my textbooks here. I'm just going to run in really quick," I said, pulling up the lock and opening the door.

"No way. Hodge would be furious if he knew you were coming back here. He specifically said not to go back to your job," Alec argued. Apparently, Alec knew _everything_ about the deal I had made with the Lightwoods.

Before I could protest this, Jace, ignoring both of us, made a movement to get out of the car. Alec grabbed his arm, holding him back.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked. Alec was clearly losing hold on this situation, and that deeply distressed him.

"We're at a strip club, Alec. Do you really think I'm going to wait in the car?" Jace said. He brushed Alec's hand off and walked to the entrance of the club. I got out next, ignoring the misplaced blame Alec was sending my way. I didn't care what either of them did while I was collecting my things.

I walked around the building to the side entrance that only the workers were privileged to. I walked in and headed through the storage space back into the dressing rooms. There were hardly any girls here due to it being daytime. Most of the girls who did the afternoon shift were either not popular enough to get better time slots or came in to try out new routines. In the daylight, strip clubs turned from being magical, sexy play lands to a weird, metaphysical place where the pitiful met with lust. That's normally why strip clubs aren't open until nighttime. However, since plenty of our clients come in for lunch meetings, the club gets enough revenue to stay open during this otherwise unprofitable time.

I didn't see Maia, which bummed me out. I sent her a vague text last night about how I was taking the next few weeks off so she wouldn't worry. However, I wanted to explain to her in person what happened. But I had to tell Magnus why I wasn't going to be showing up for work—that was the real issue.

I grabbed some of my personal items that I left in my locker: a sketchbook that I drew in in between sets, a text book (I wasn't lying about that), and the only other thing that could lend to who I was: a picture of my mother. I stuffed all of those things in my bag, ignoring the pang of sadness that shot through me. If she was here, Valentine wouldn't be after me.

I wish I would've told her about Valentine's coldness. But he was hardly around when I was younger, and I didn't register it as something malevolent. But, what if I had? What if I told her when he hit me or how I didn't think he loved me? Would she have done anything? Would she have left him? She loved him, but did she know that he had a penchant for cruelty? I remember how much she hated his illegal activities, but she never physically stopped him. Most likely because he brought in enough money that she could raise me and do what she loved without ever having to worry about cash. Or maybe it was more than money. She always did see the best in people. Maybe her love for him and hope that he'd change overshadowed the truth. I wish more than anything I could ask her about him, demand answers, ask her how she could leave this world leaving her daughter to be raised by a psychopath?

I felt a familiar sting behind my eyes. I was blaming her for things that weren't in her control anymore. She was dead and was never coming back. My body shook with a repressed sob, and I found myself leaning against the wall. I tried desperately to hold myself together, but my sadness was like water built up against a cracking dam. Any minute now, I would break and my sorrow would overwhelm me.

"Clary?" I heard my name being called. The distraction was enough to pull me out of my despair.

"Yeah?" I called weakly.

One of the daytime dancers came to me. She was pretty, but not in any special way. She was one of those girls that pretended they were aspiring actresses but never got more than commercial ads for JC Penny.

"Magnus is looking for you. Two guys are making a scene and they claim that they know you."

 **What are those boys getting themselves into? So we finally met Alec. What do you think of Jocelyn? Was she a bad mother not to see how her husband treated their daughter? Review and tell me what you think of the story so far.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Previously on "Strippers and Secrets"**

 **"That boy wants to enjoy your company for the rest of the evening."**

 **"Jace Wayland," I said aloud. Suddenly, I remembered all the gossip I've heard about the man in front of me: all the fights, the arrests, the endless stream of women, and the worst fact of all: he goes to my college.**

 **I looked at Jace who was panting, his eyes and hair wild. We were almost just murdered.**

 **"We want to offer you protection," Hodge began. "You will stay at the Lightwood's manor with Mr. Wayland. We will keep you safe while Detective Garroway finds out who is after you both."**

 **"We're at a strip club, Alec. Do you really think I'm going to wait in the car?" Jace said.**

 **"Magnus is looking for you, Clary. Two guys are making a scene and they claim that they know you."**

 **Chapter 8**

When I walked into the main room, I was not prepared for the sight that awaited me.

Jace was on the stage with his thighs wrapped the metal pool. Alec stood awkwardly on the other side of the stage, hands digging into his pockets. The other strippers were sitting front row whooping and giggling. Magnus watched on with a sly smile, glittery eyes lasered on Alec.

"How was your night?" Magnus asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively when I took a seat next to him.

"Fine," I said distracted.

Now Jace was twerking. Badly. The other girls cheered loudly. Alec's face was beet red as he swayed unrhythmically to the beat. I pointed to the madness. "What's going on here?"

"Well I'm glad you asked. The blonde one demanded for a drink but didn't have ID. You know the rules. He needs to dance on stage to earn his drink."

"Why is Alec up there?" I asked confused. Surely, he wasn't drinking.

"Well, I may have changed the rules slightly so that Blue Eyes had to dance too. He's doing a marvelous job."

I glanced skeptically at Alec. I wasn't sure he could even hear the music due to all the blood that rushed to his face. That's when Jace noticed me and said,

"Clary, this is so easy. No wonder you do it." He sashayed his hips and lifted his shirt slightly causing the peanut gallery to go crazy.

"Oh sweetie, these are pity cheers," I called to him pointing at my stripper friends.

"They love it!" he said. And for some reason watching him dance on that stage, face alighted with excitement, I didn't want to ruin it for him. He was having fun.

"Clary, why don't you go show Alec how it's done? Take some pressure off the poor boy," Magnus said. His cat eyes danced with amusement.

"Are you sure _you_ don't want to go up there and teach him?" I asked with a sly grin.

"Heavens no. I want to watch."

I went up on stage to Alec. His face was flushed. He looked at me with pleading eyes.

"Am I done now? I don't even want a drink but Magnus said in order for Jace to get one I had to dance too."

"Do you always do everything for Jace?" I asked. Some of the anger I had grown accustomed to returned to his face.

"Of course. He's my step brother," he said, with a steely tone.

"Then keep dancing," I chided. He groaned. And I took slight pity on him. You did crazy shit for the ones you loved. "Look at me. See how I'm gyrating my hips. Do that."

Alec studied and tried to copy my movements.

"No you're too tense." I placed my hands on his hips, which only resulting in him tensing further. "Relax," I whispered. I moved them; and to my surprise, he let me. It was then I noticed him glancing at Magnus. "If you really want to impress him, then follow my lead." I whispered.

When Jace glanced over at us, he stopped dancing, much to the chagrin of his crowd. He watched us without expression.

I slowly moved his hips just to tease Magnus. And as a result Magnus leaned forward with interest.

"Now repeat what I do," I said to Alec.

I showed him a few routine moves to see if he would follow. I had assumed Alec was athletic what with his tall build and slim frame, but I never would have guessed how quickly he could pick up dance moves.

After a while it seemed like he developed a rhythm on his own, gyrating, bucking, and teasing. I was impressed. I mean he was no Magic Mike, but it was far better than what he'd been originally doing.

All the girls were loving it as well, Jace forgotten. But they didn't matter to Alec. He kept his sights on Magnus.

After the song was over, and Alec realized the magnitude of people watching him, the person Alec had become immediately hid for cover. His face—before animated with cheek and coyness—was now it's masked facade. He quickly fled the stage saying something about waiting in the car.

I could tell Magnus wanted to follow him, but he was never one for the chase. Rather he wasn't the one who did the chasing.

"Well, now that I know my day won't get any better than this, I'll be in my office reliving that, " Magnus said.

I quickly followed him.

"You should get him to work here full-time. I can only imagine the crowds he'd bring in," Magnus lamented.

"I don't think this is Alec's scene," I responded politely.

"Pity," Magnus said.

"Look, Magnus, about last night—"

"Oh right your cut. Don't spend it all in one place." He pulled a check out of his cigar jacket.  
I took the check not even bothering to look at it. I told Magnus the story leaving out how the culprit was probably my sociopathic father. Magnus listened with almost glee as if he was watching a soap opera.

"So in the meantime, while the cops are on the case, you have to stay at that magnificent sun fish's house?" he asked, barely restraining his glee. I knew he was referring to Alec.

"Yeah."

"How delightful. Let me know when you can come back to work. Pandemonium is going to miss your fiery red hair." He stopped me before as I started to leave. His face was the most serious I'd ever seen it. "Also, Clary, be careful. I've seen many a woman in this profession end up kissing the dust."

I was touched by his concern. Magnus didn't like to show that he cared about anyone. It was part of his elusive, nonchalant bravado he used. I left after that, surprised to see that Jace was nowhere in the club. I would've expected him to be enjoying his drink or still showing off for his crowd.

I walked outside, hoping that Alex's black car would still be parked on the sidewalk. All of a sudden someone grabbed me and pulled me into the alley. I tried to fight back, sticking out my elbows in a defensive position, making contact with hard flesh.

"Ow!" a familiar voice screeched. I looked up to my attacked, surprised to see the golden blonde hair of Jace.

"What the hell is your problem!" I shouted, trying to slow down my thundering heart. I was safe. It wasn't Valentine.

"Sorry, jeez, I didn't know you were going to go all ninja on me," he said. He was holding his side with his arm. For a second, worry shot through me. I hoped I hadn't done any serious damage.

"Are you okay?" I asked. I was about to run back inside for some ice when Jace responded.

"Of course! SDid you think a little jab from your bony, little arms would hurt someone like me?" The condescension mixed with self-righteousness on his face was enough to send me walking.

"Well in that case," I made my move towards Alec's car. Jace grabbed my hand.

"Wait. I'm not finished."

"I think you are," I said, pulling back my hand while shooting him a glare.

"DoyoulikeAlec?" he asked, his words coming out so quickly, I wasn't sure I heard him correctly.

"What?" I asked.

"I mean it's obvious you do. You were all over him." Jace has appeared to regain some of his composure and was now looking at me with a hint of disdain and condescension. I put my hands on my hip.

"Excuse me?" I could've just walked away. I could've just went to the car and forgotten all about the look of hurt that passed so quickly along his face I couldn't be sure I'd seen it. But when I looked at his eyes, I didn't see the familiar gleam that attested to his humor. He was serious.

"Look I get it. Alec is tall and has blue eyes." Jace threw his hand like he was the poster boy of nonchalance.

So Jace didn't get it. He didn't know about Alec. I suddenly wondered why Alec would keep such a huge secret about his life from his stepbrother. Still, I wouldn't be the one to ruin it.

"You're right. He's very attractive," I said.

Jace's facial features hardened. I suppressed a smile.

"Where did you learn those moves," he asked, changing the subject. He stepped closer. I told myself that the buzzing in my veins had nothing to do with Jace's proximity.

"Why? You want me to teach you?" I asked, with condescension in my voice.

"I was going to offer you the same thing," he responded. He was smirking, and as if his smile was infectious, my lips curled upwards.

"Because you're _such_ a great dancer?" I scoffed.

"I saw you looking," he said. He stepped even closer, and I felt my heart flutter. He smelled like citrus and soap, and it made my brain go fuzzy.

"I was watching you make a fool of yourself," I said. I had been pressed up against the brick wall without my knowledge. The cool brick was a relief against my hot skin.

He touched my hair, curling a strand around his finger. He studied it with a kind of intensity I've seen on him. I didn't know why, but for some reason I thought I was really seeing Jace. Not the Jace that wore a mask of condescension and indifference. I was positive I was getting a look of the real him. But, I was probably wrong. Why would he unsheathe his mask while looking at me?

But then I noticed a slight shift. His golden eyes weren't studying me anymore, they were smoldering. Looking at me in a way that would disarm all my skepticisms.

"So who was that guy you were talking to in the club?"

"Magnus? He's my boss. He owns Pandemonium." Jace studied my face intently, causing me to blush. "Why? Are you jealous?" I responded coyly with a flutter of my eyelashes.

"Do you like him?" he asked again. He still had that strange look on his face.

"You're a terrible flirter, you know that?" I said teasingly. Jace responded with a sly smile.

"Oh come on, I'm not that bad," he joked, nudging me with his elbow. The seemingly platonic touch shot currents through me. The joking demeanor stopped. "But seriously, is he a good person?"

"He's a good boss if that's what you're asking," I said, suddenly confused by the line of questioning.

"Is he your pimp?" he asked suddenly.

"What?" His words caused me to physically jerk back. The brick was now scratching my skin. Jace seemed to have stepped back too, causing much needed distance between us. He shrugged casually and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"I mean he seemed kinda shady. Do you owe him anything that might have lead to... you know," he asked.

I stared at him dumbfounded. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"So that's your play is it? Try to get information out of me so your lawyer can use it against me?" I spat the words out, hoping to sound more disgusted than betrayed.

"Come on, Ginger, I was just curious." He smiled again, flashing me that charming grin. I faltered for a moment. Maybe I had overreacted. Jace must have seen the uncertainty on my face because then his face turned sympathetic.

"Maybe you should tell the cops about him, beautiful" he said. "I'm sure they'd give you less time or whatever for cooperating."

My eyes narrowed. I almost believed he wasn't flirting me to get information. I had actually almost trusted him. When did I lose my natural distrust for men? How did he play me like a fool?

"You're unbelievable," I said, grinding my teeth. I started to walk away.

"Ginger, wait," Jace called.

"Want a statement for your lawyer? Here's one."

I flipped him the bird and then stormed away.

 **Review! I love the feedback. To quote someone from tumblr "** **Art is communication-and communication shouted into the void is frighteningly isolating. We need our readers, our viewers, our audience. We need to hear what you think. We need to converse in comments, answer your counter thoughts or thoughtful critique, we need the _conversation-_ that's what art is"**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello, beautiful readers! Here's the first promise to show all of you that I plan on finishing this story. So I hope you haven't finished this story in your minds because I. AM. BACK. (although if you have theories, add them in the comments.)**

 **Chapter 9**

I called an Uber to my apartment, not taking any chances by taking the subway or a bus. I was furious at what Jace had done, but I was more furious at myself for falling for it.

How did I let my defenses fall so quickly? When I first met Simon it took me months to finally trust him, and here I was opening up about things to a guy a just met? Thinking of Simon made me realize how lonely I was. I decided to call him.

"Clary? Is everything okay?" he asked worriedly.

I smiled. Simon was a decent man. He genuinely cared about me.

"Yeah I'm fine. It's just been... weird," I said, deciding not to tell him for the sake of my pride.

"I'm sure. Getting attacked by someone and then being forced to abandon your life and live with a bunch of snobby strangers isn't an everyday occurrence."

I laughed at his response. Simon could always make me laugh.

"Where are you now?" he asked.

"I'm heading to my apartment. I have to pick up a few things." I pulled down the skirt that was threatening to expose my butt cheeks. Not only was I constantly readjusting it, it was so tight that I felt like I had to suck in all day for fear of showing my belly pouch. I now understood why Isabelle was so pissy all the time.

"Are you with a police escort?" he asked. There was a slight tinge of alarm that made my stomach clench with unease.

"Um no. But it's no big deal," I said.

"This is unacceptable," Simon said. His voice was harsh, unlike anything I'd ever heard before. "Those pretensions pricks were supposed to assign you a security detail."

I remembered how Hodge had told me a car was waiting to take me where I wanted to go. But I had gotten in the wrong car.

"It's fine," I said, again. I wasn't sure why I was defending the Lightwoods. I didn't want to discern any other motive than not wanting Simon to worry. So that's what I went with.

"Those dicks," he mumbled, followed with a sigh. "Just wait outside around people until I get there."

"No, you really don't have to!" I said, suddenly. "You have that case you're working on..." Guilt furled in my stomach. Simon had been working hard trying to make detective and taking personal breaks throughout the day wasn't going to help him.

"Clary, it's no big deal. I'd do anything for you." His words were absolute, like nothing in the world could ever change his mind. Simon was a loyal man. He loved deeply and wonderfully. And I knew, in the deepest most deprived part of me, that I didn't deserve him.

"Thanks, Simon," I said softly.

When I arrived at my old apartment, I stayed put just like Simon had requested. However, the more I stood under the sun, people bustling around, living their individual lives, the more I felt foolish. I paced back and forth. I was wasting Simon's time all because I was upset at how I reacted with Jace. I should've been smarter, kept my walls up. I didn't need to go crying to Simon because of my insecurities.

With a sudden, half-hearted resolve, I headed into the building. I breathed in the hallway's aroma of mothballs and urine. It was an unpleasant smell, but I had become desensitized to it. After five flights of stairs, something that I never got used to, I was in front of the place I called home for the last couple of years.

I stalled for a little longer, refamiliarizing myself with the door: the crooked peephole, the chipped paint, the black scuffmarks—all of which combined made up the security that kept me from the outside world and, more importantly, the outside world from getting to me. I reached into my soft leather bag and pulled out the keychain with the bejeweled key. I had been resistant to bejeweling it at first—I thought it was too girly (back during my more angsty days). But after Simon pointed out that there weren't many ways to decorate a key other than bejeweling. We made a competition of it: who could decoate the best key. I had two made, and we turned it into a day of shopping for art supplies, decorating the keys, and eating sushi.

In the end, I had painted a replica of Gogh's "The Starry Night" in metallic, non-chip paint and Simon had down the exact replica but with jewels. When we presented each other with the keys we both laughed at the coincidence. It was a painting we both held in esteem. We had found a mutual love of the painting when one day I came home and found my apartment broken into. I was on the verge of a panic attack, believing with every fiber in my being that Valentine had found me. While Luke investigated, Simon insisted that we go somewhere that made me happy, somewhere that made me feel safe.

At the moment, my mind was too clouded with fear that threatened to consume me. So Simon took me to the only place he thought I'd enjoy—MOMA. He took me around to all the paintings, and despite not knowing a thing about art, he made up his own stories about the paintings that were so comical after a while I forgot my troubles and clutched my stomach with laughter. "The Starry Night" was my favorite painting that he "taught" me about. He explained that Van Gogh hired snails to construct the masterpiece. He found them in his garden, commissioned them to make the painting and their sliding around in paint is how the iconic painting came into being. He told me it was better known as "The Snail Night" by Van Gastropoda.

Before we left, he insisted on getting a poster of the painting from the gift shop. But he had crossed out the name and author replacing it with his concoction. The silly painting was the first thing put into my apartment after the break in—which turned out not to be related to Valentine. And every time I looked at the poster or any representation likewise, it reminded me of that day where I felt safe and carefree.

So when Simon presented me with the bejeweled key with a snail keychain, I knew I had to have his over my own. We ended up trading keys.

As I looked down at the key, which had seen its day, I remembered of how Simon had made me feel. And how that feeling went along with trust. And how I was being a shitty person to disregard the advice of a most trusted friend.

I headed back down the staircase right as the door to my apartment opened. I quickly ducked into the nearby hallway, heart hammering. I didn't dare to glance around the corner. I desperately wished the intruders would just head down the staircase and not down the hallway where I was hiding behind a small, fake plant.

"The elevator doesn't work? What a fucking shithole," the first man mumbled.

I rolled my eyes. It was a shithole that I paid an arm and a leg for. And _I_ was allowed to complain about it, but not these assholes, who were breaking and entering.

"You think we got enough for the boss?" the same voice asked. The voice was closer to my hiding space, and I could taste the metallic tang of fear in my throat.

They were looking for me; I knew it.

These goons were trying to take me back to Valentine. The sweat sliding down my face felt too loud, like a swimmer going down a slide in the waterpark.

The footsteps came closer, and I held my breath. My heart stuttered against my chest as if it too were trying to stay quiet. If they found me... everything was ruined. Valentine wouldn't kill me. No. I knew better than that. Everyone I loved would be in jeopardy: Simon, Luke, Jace...

I shook my head. I didn't care about Jace. Even if I did unwittingly drag him into this blood feud with me and Valentine. The voices were even closer. I squeezed my eyes closed, as if somehow me not seeing them would stop them from seeing me.

"How about you shut up?" another voice answered.

I head the sound of footsteps against stairs and released the breath I'd been holding. When I couldn't hear their footsteps, the reality of the situation hit me like a freight train. I had almost just been caught.

My knees couldn't hold me anymore. I sunk, grateful that the wall was there to support me. But a sob racked through my body, and I pressed a hand to my mouth to stop the cry that begged to be released. I held back tears as images of Valentine and what could have happened flooded my brain.

I was too busy breaking down to notice the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. It wasn't until a figure appeared in my vision that I started to cry.

"Ginger?" the melodic voice asked with confusion. When he took in my state, the confusion was quickly replaced with protectiveness. He rushed to my side and knelt down. "Who did this to you?" Jace demanded. There was a steal note to his voice that I didn't recognize.

I couldn't answer. My throat was paralyzed with 'what ifs.' Another choked sob came from me, and I felt like everything that I had worked so hard for was crumbling down. Soon, the only man I cared about looking strong for would see me in my most vulnerable.

But to my surprise, Jace didn't go running in the opposite direction away from the hysterical woman. Instead, he kneeled down next to me and opened his arms. Call it the confusion mixed with panic, but I all but leaped into his open arms. He embraced me tightly, warmth cascading around me. He brought my face to the crook between his neck and his chest. I found my solace there as he stroked my hair and whispered, "it's okay. It's okay" over and over, like a lullaby.

 **See Jace isn't the douche he tries to be! Although I do try to balance douchery with kindness because I DO NOT want to promote abusive behavior. Anyway, there's more to come, so read, review, and subscribe!**


	10. Chapter 10

**So just saw the trailer for Shadowhunters Season 2! What do you all think? I see that they haven't gotten rid of Jace's ridiculous haircut, but that's just one girl's opinion. And let's all take a moment to thank the stars that Clary's hair isn't ridiculously curled. Anyway, here's the next installment in this story! Hope you enjoy!**

 **Chapter 10**

"Clary? Clary?" an out-of-breath Simon yelled, coming up the stairs. He turned the corner and stopped short, staring at Jace and me locked in an embrace. I suddenly felt embarrassed by my compromising position. I quickly pushed Jace away. He looked shocked at first, and his arms hovered around invisible air. But he composed himself and shoved his fists in his pockets, an unreadable expression on his face.

What Simon was going to say, I'm not sure. Instead, he asked, "What's going on here?"

"Uh, we were just..." I glanced helplessly at Jace. His lips curled into a smirk, as he watched me flail for an answer. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. Two guys broke into my apartment."

Jace's smirk dropped.

"What?" Simon and Jace said at the exact time. They quickly glanced at each other and then back at me.

"Did you see their faces?" Simon asked, stepping closer.

"No," I started to say.

"Does this mean I'm in the clear?" Jace asked, interrupting me.

Now it was my turn to ask "what." Jace gave a slight shrug, his hands still in his pockets.

"Well the police couldn't figure out if the attacker was after you or me. And will this... this kinda proves they're after you."

"And how does it prove that?" I asked, shocked. My stomach twisted. I had protection and a place to live because Jace's family believed the attack was after him. If this proved that I was the original victim, I'd be alone in this whole ordeal.

Jace scoffed. "Come on, you don't see anyone trying to break into the Lightwood Manor."

I folded my arms and rolled my eyes. "Yeah they only broke into Idris. Whose hotel is that again? Oh right! _Yours._ "

Jace met my defensive stance.

"A hotel is different than an apartment."

"What a line of logic," I said sarcastically.

"You know what I mean! If they were targeting me, they wouldn't have come to your apartment."

"Maybe they thought you'd be there," I challenged.

"As if," he sneered. I ignored the way his vehement denial pierced me.

"That's enough," Simon said, interrupting. It was probably a good thing because I was after blood. "These are questions for the police, i.e. me should be asking." Jace and I continued to glare at each other. "Clary, did you notice anything about the men?"

I tore my gaze from Jace's piercing golden eyes and looked at Simon. He had a familiar look of determination in his eyes. He had the same look when he was making the key in our competition. It also reminded me of how much he was putting on the line to help me out. I immediately felt guilty.

"Sorry, Simon. Uh... they said something about having enough for their boss? I'm not really sure. It all happened so quickly." I let out an involuntary shiver. I wrapped my arms around myself and couldn't help but notice how warmer it was in Jace's embrace. Simon put a hand on my arm.

"We'll find them, Clary." He said it with so much confidence that I didn't doubt he believed it. However, I had my own doubts. Valentine's corporation wasn't going to be taken down by a junior detective.

After putting on latex gloves, Simon carefully inspected the door. "No sign of forced entry." He tried the knob. It was unlocked. "Either they used a lock pick or they have a copy of your key. We'll take a look inside and get an inventory of anything missing. Maybe we can get an idea what they wanted this 'boss' to know."

I cringed. Both options made me want to vomit. These men violated the safe space I've had for years. And even though Simon didn't say it, I could tell what he was thinking. If Valentine wanted to know this is where I was living, he'd send people to find evidence.

"Okay, Kindergarten Cop. When are the real police coming?" Jace asked with some asperity.

"Well, since any of this getting out will affect you getting your precious inheritance, we've had to limit the number of people involved. So like it or not, you're stuck with me." Simon snapped.

I was surprised at Simon's hostility. Usually, he was more reserved.

"Fine if you want to play detective go ahead. But, I'm out of here," Jace said.

"No one's stopping you," Simon responded, with a tight smile.

Jace shot me a look as if he wanted me to say something. I had Simon. I didn't need Jace. Or that's at least what I tried to tell myself. But as soon as he started to walk away, I couldn't help the words that came out of my mouth.

"Don't you need protection? Those goons could be heading to your place as we speak."

Jace turned back around. A look of surprise crossed his face, before his expression settled into smugness.

"It doesn't seem like I'm the one who needs protection," he said, as he nodded to my apartment door.

"She's right," Simon said, as he sighed in resignation. My words weren't meant to scare Jace. They were meant to remind Simon of his duty to protect. "You can't leave without a security detail."

Jace let out a noise of indignation. "Fine. I'll call mine right now."

"Then Hodge will know you left home without one. Bet he wouldn't like that," I said, a smile forming on my face. We got him. He couldn't leave without fear of being exposed to Hodge and Mayrse.

Instead of being upset, he simply smiled. "If you wanted me around so bad, Ginger, you could've just asked." Before I could respond, he sauntered past me, brushing against my shoulder, and headed through the open door. I ignored the way a current shot down my arm and followed him. Simon came in last, clearly annoyed by the outcome of the situation.

I was first met with the familiar smell of eucalyptus and vanilla. The living room was covered with candles. It had started out as an anxiety reducer, but then turned into an art experiment. I melted candles into certain shapes. I glanced over at Jace who was studying an angel I had made out of melted wax. I watched as he took out a lighter and lit the wick. He observed the way the wax slipped down the candle like angel tears. He met my gaze and held it. I felt drawn to Jace at that moment. I saw in his eyes that he knew what my art was about. He understood. He, like me, had felt desolate. He knew that desperate feeling of loss.

"Is anything missing, Clary?" Simon asked. I tore my gaze from Jace, who in return blew out the candle and that moment of connection.

"Um..." I stalled for a moment, as my heart rate slowed down. I was too distracted by the pain in Jace's expression as he watched the wax drip down the angel. What had he lost? What was the cause of his pain?

"Clary?" Simon promoted me from my reverie.

I looked around. Everything seemed to be in place: the purple duvet draped against the soft leather couch, my un-made queen bed that was against the exposed brick, and, most importantly, my mom's artwork that hung all over the apartment (the one thing I thought Valentine would be sadistic enough to take).

"I don't think so?" I said. Even the box of records I owned (which Jace was ruffling through) hadn't been touched. "What did they want?"

Simon walked to my "bedroom" portion of the studio apartment. He looked at the collage of photos I had hanging like clothes across a line above my bed. They were all photos I had taken in my hipster-photographer phase. A lot were of Simon doing funny things like having a rootbeer float mustache or wearing a Dracula costume. Some were of things I found beautiful and intriguing like vines growing on urban buildings or pigeons stealing fries. And my favorite: pictures of my mom when she was healthy and when she was sick. Some of those pictures were cut at odd angles to remove the parasitical Valentine. But the one picture Simon kept staring at wasn't a member of any of those categories. And when I saw the picture, I gasped in surprise. And unfortunately, that alerted Jace to what was going on. He immediately came to Simon's side.

"Wow, Ginger, I didn't know you were this big of fan." He smirked as he looked at the picture of himself that hung between one of Simon shaking maracas and one of my mom with paint-covered hands.

I had forgotten about the picture, but as soon as I saw it I remembered why I fell in love with it in the first place. A paparazzi must have caught the picture, but it was of Jace waving down a taxi. It had appeared in some magazine that I forgot the name of. But when I first saw the picture, I remembered being obsessed with it. And not just because the subject was the famous heartthrob, Jace Wayland. But because of the expression Jace wore in it. He was smiling—and not the smile that caused girls to melt. But a real smile. There was this kind of happiness that radiated from him, and I knew I had to have it (it was during the time when I was afraid to leave my apartment). Because every time I saw it, it would remind me that the level of happiness was attainable. Here was this boy, who while doing something mundane, had achieved the level of ecstasy that usually only drugs could bring you to. And I knew that even in my darkest moments, I could at least be reminded of the chance of that kind of happiness.

But instead of elaborating on that, I grabbed to photo and shoved it into my bag.

"I just liked the way the light refracted across your face," I lied, hoping I wasn't red as a tomato.

"Sure, Ginger." Jace had a wide grin across his face. But it couldn't hold a flame to the smile in my bag.

Simon's mood was even more glum than before.

"So is there anything actually missing? Or was this all for nothing?"

His words twisted in my stomach. I didn't want Simon to be wasting his time. And unfortunately that promoted me to realize what was missing.

"There's a picture of Jace that's missing."

 **Oooh so maybe we don't know who's the original victim after all? What do you guys think of Simon? What do you think of Jace? Review because I love to hear what readers' think!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello, lovelies! I really want to revive this story once and for all and stop leaving all you all hanging! So I hope you enjoy! I know some readers are worried about Simon, but don't worry! He'll get his happily ever after! Also, those of you who like the Jace development (I'm talking about the lovely who left the long review-and you're right his hair is still horrible) thank you! For those of you who think Jace is too mean, don't worry he'll reveal his soft side soon enough! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! I do this for you 3**

 **Chapter 11**

"You have _two_ pictures of me?" Jace asked. His grin was so wide it looked like he had a hanger in his mouth.

I rolled my eyes.

"Get over yourself. I completely forgot about that picture of you. I didn't even recognize you at Pandemonium. And the other picture, well it isn't even really a picture. It's a magazine with your face on the cover."

Jace leaned close to me. He pushed a strand of hair out of his smoldering eyes.

"So you bought a magazine with me on it?" he asked.

I matched his cocky expression.

"Is your dick ever jealous of the size of your ego?"

He leaned closer and warmth radiated off of him. I felt myself stepping forward. Jace wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Trust me, Ginger. You don't have to worry about _that_."

"I won't lose any sleep over it," I responded dryly.

"I think you will." He winked.

Before I could make a witty retort, Simon coughed, which startled both of us. I jumped apart from Jace, not realizing how close we'd gotten.

"Why would someone break into your apartment and only steal a magazine?" Simon asked, looking at me doubtfully.

I shrugged. "How should I know?"

"For the same reason people break into the Louvre and MOMA," Jace said. I stared at him in shock. I had know idea he knew what a museum was, let alone the two most famous art museums in the world.

Simon took the bait. "Why?"

"For the artwork," Jace said with a satisfied smile.

I grimaced at his attempt to be clever. "I'd hardly consider that magazine photo of you to be art," I said.

"But, Ginger, to paraphrase the philosopher Barthes, art is subjective. So if one person thinks its art, therefore it must be." A self-assured look was plastered on his face.

"I—" I started, ready to object. Then, his words hit me. I couldn't believe we were discussing the theory of art.

"Whether or not your face should be hung up next to the Mona Lisa, isn't what I came here to discuss," Simon said without humor. He turned to me. "Was there anything special about the magazine?" he asked.

His words were a demand. I could tell he wanted to believe me. He wanted a lead that would help the investigation.

"I bought the magazine on Friday because there was an article about an impressionist exhibit. Not because it had a picture of Jace on it," I added, throwing a glance of disdain toward Jace.

"Okay, well the obvious connection is that it was stolen because of the picture of Jace." Simon said, throwing a glare at both of us. He didn't appreciate our arguing when there were more important things at stake than who came out on top of this fight. "Now we have to figure out why it was taken."

Simon started pacing. It was a familiar gesture, one he'd done many times in my apartment like when he wanted to ask out Maia and when he was studying for academy training.

"Are you sure it's been stolen? What if you threw it away?" he asked.

I didn't think I threw it away, but I couldn't be sure. And so that's what I told him. It seemed to make him more agitated. Meanwhile, Jace had made himself comfortable on my bed. He pulled out his phone and was preoccupied with it.

"So there's a chance they just broke in and took a browse around your apartment?" Simon said. "I wonder what they were looking for and what they got that would be 'enough for their boss'."

I shivered. The thought of those men wandering around my apartment touching my things made the hair on my arms stand up. I involuntarily glanced over at my underwear drawer. I hugged myself, hoping the chill would go away.

"Maybe they weren't stealing anything," Jace said, not looking up from his phone.

"What do you mean?" I asked, sitting on the edge of my bed. I ran my hand over the painted duvet. It took me a couple months painting the whole thing with fabric paint. But now it bore a striking resemblance to Monet's "A Field of Poppies." When I was sad or scared, I'd open the shades and let the sun pour in. Then I'd lay on the comforter with my eyes closed, imagining I was in Monet's field. Some days I could almost smell the poppies.

I looked up to see Jace watching me. When our eyes met, he quickly looked back down at his phone. The he said, "There's only two reasons someone would break into somewhere: to steal something or... to leave something."

"What would they leave?" My eyes scanned the apartment trying to see if anything was added.

"Bug?" Jace suggested.

Simon and I turned to each other at the exact same time. My eyes were wide with horror. We communicated silently. He nodded to the door. I quickly followed him outside the apartment.

"Oh my god, Simon! They're listening! It's Valentine. I just know it. Oh my god. This isn't good. My life... all this... everything I built... it's all gone!" I was a couple seconds away from hyperventilating.

Simon pulled me to him. His embrace was enough to slow my racing heart.

"Hey shhhh. It's okay. You're gonna listen to that doofus's theory? The only detective experience he has is watching Law & Order."

I tried to laugh. But I knew why Jace's theory could be right.

"But my father..."

"We don't know anything yet. I'll have Luke come out, and we'll sweep the place. No need to fret, Clary." He smoothed down my hair with soothing movements.

Jace opened the door. After taking in our positions, he leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said, with a smirk.

I pulled a part from Simon.

"Just my life," I retorted, remembering how this whole thing started when he walked into Pandemonium that fateful evening.

"Actually, you came into my life," he pointed out. "So, I guess it's the other way around."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really? Because I remember _you_ showing up asking for _me_ at the strip club."

Jace scoffed, "that was my frat bros."

"And yet," I gestured around me. "They're not the ones in this mess."

"Whatever. I called Alec to come get us and take us to the Institute—that's what I call my house," he added, noticing my confusion.

I thought back to its church-like stature and nodded my approval at the nickname.

"That'd probably be best, Clary," Simon agreed.

I glanced back at my apartment. Just two nights ago, everything was normal. I wished I could turn back time and enjoy those moments before the shit hit the fan. But if I'd learned anything, there was only moving forward—no looking back.

"I'm just going to grab a few things," I said, leaving the boys in the hallway.

I headed back into the apartment that would forever now be tarnished in my mind with this event. I grabbed an olive green duffle bag and started shoving clothes in it. I ignored the urge to grab my at-home paint supplies. I had extra stuff in my studio workspace on campus. I did however stick a few half-used journals and extra charcoal pencils. I then carefully wrapped my mom's self-portrait. It was my most valuable piece of art and no fancy museum could tell me otherwise.

"You should bring the comforter," Jace's voice came behind me.

I glanced back at him, startled that he snuck up on me. I gave him a questioning look.

"It'll make you feel more at home at the Institute. Trust me," he added.

He had a far off look in his eye that made my hands twitch for the charcoal I'd just put away.

"Where's Simon," I asked.

"He went to canvas neighbors, whatever that means," Jace said. I nodded. Silence hung between us like a thick fog. "Um I'll grab the comforter for you since your hands are full," he suggested. I was surprised by his gallantry.

"Wow, how very chivalrous," I teased.

"Oh I'm a perfect gentleman. I open doors and hold out chairs," Jace said, with a 100-watt smile.

"And go to strip clubs?" I added.

I helped him fold the comforter. We met in the middle and pressed the sides together. But we didn't separate. There was something so intoxicating about the sunlight sliding through the windows casing us in warmth. Jace's eyes glittered, and my stomach flipped in an unexpected way.

"If I do recall, I saved your life. I think that wins me a few points in the gentleman department." He said it all-smiles, but for a brief moment, the horror of that night stopped me. I looked at his face. He was beautiful: strong cheekbones, full lips, a devil-may-care expression always guarding the pain that could only show itself occasionally, cracking through the gold in his eyes.

"Thank you," I said softly.

His looked at me, confused.

"I never thanked you for that night... for saving me. What you did... it was incredible," I said. Maybe it was the sunlight that drew me closer to him or maybe it was something else. But, I felt myself stepping closer, wishing the comforter wasn't between us.

"I didn't really do anything," he said, shrugging it off. I watched as his throat constrict as he swallowed. He wasn't being modest—he just really didn't think he did anything special in saving my life. I wondered what would cause someone to brush off something as heroic as saving someone's life.

"You could've died," I said, trying to argue with him. Where was the bragging? The "I'm so great?" The "I'm such a gentleman" act he was playing with earlier.

"It was nothing," he said, a little more urgently.

"It's not nothing. You saved my life." I argued, not sure why I was getting angry.

"Saving your life doesn't mean anything!" he yelled.

I took an involuntary step back, shocked. His expression immediately turned pleading.

"No, no. I didn't mean it like that," he said softly.

"Forget it," I ripped the comforter from him, but he held on.

"No, really. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

I turned away from him and vigorously zipped my duffle bag closed.

"Please, you think you can hurt my feelings? Do you really think I care that much about you?" I laced as much venom as I could into my words. I didn't want him to see how much those words hurt me.

I felt his hand on my arm.

"Clary..."

My name. My actual name. It sounded like a prayer on his tongue.

"It's not what you think..." his voice was strained, and I found myself turning around. "I'm just not a hero..." His eyes were filled with such pain that I don't think I could even capture the depth on canvas.

"What do you mean?"

He just shook his head, like he couldn't even bear to let the words leave his mouth. Before I could press further, his phone rang. He kept his eyes locked with mine as he answered the phone, as if somehow he could get across whatever he couldn't say.

"Alec's here," he said, putting the phone back in his pocket.

"Okay then," I said.

He didn't say anything else. Finally he let out a sigh, and then he finished folding my comforter. Since it was clear he wasn't going to say anything more, I headed for the door, more confused than anything.

"I would do it again," he said suddenly, stopping me. I didn't turn around. "Save you, that is. I would keep saving you."

 **Okay so what is going on?! There's the confusing break in and now this bizzaro reaction from Jace? Sounds like someone has some skeletons in his past! Also, if any reviewer wants me to actually answer any of their questions just let me know! I normally just read the questions and take them into consideration while writing the next instalment, but if you want answers ask away (unless you want me to divulge the secrets of this plot, which i won't ;) )**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks for the reviews! I was wondering if you all wanted any Jace POV? I know one reviewer mentioned it, so review with your thoughts! Also add/fav this story so you can alerts when I update (I'm always worried about updating at the wrong time and then readers miss it x( ) Hope you enjoy this chapter XXX (i think you guys will ;) )**

 **Chapter 12**

Jace, Alec, and I were quiet on the way back to the Institute. I had no idea why those two were quiet, but I kept thinking back to what Jace said.

"I would keep saving you."

Was it romantic? Hell yeah. Did it confuse the shit out of me? Um hell yeah times infinity.

But that wasn't even the cherry on top to my confusion.

What was his "I'm not a hero" bit all about? How could he twist something honorable into something mundane? What was going inside that pretty blonde head of his?

Truthfully, the reason I was fixating on his issues was that it was a good distraction from my own. I knew who was in my apartment. And if I thought about it for more than a few seconds, the breath would get stolen from my lungs, and before I knew it, a full blown panic attack would ensue.

So Jace's problems were best for the time being.

When we got back to the Institute, the boys headed inside leaving me alone. I grabbed my bag and duvet and made my way to the front doors. I managed to get inside without dropping anything—something I was proud of considering the size and weight of those doors. I headed up the grand staircase to my room. On my way up, that's when I heard the yelling. Confused, I set my stuff down on the landing.

I couldn't make out much, but the curiosity got the better of me. I followed the source of the yelling, and found myself standing outside the kitchen. I put my hair behind my ear and leaned against the door.

"completely irresponsible, Jace Christopher."

Oooh he was getting "middle-named." Things were not good. With guilty delight, I listened more carefully.

"You know the board of trustees are looking for any excuse to take away your empire," Maryse's shrill voice continued.

"Maybe I don't want it," came Jace's voice, bored.

"Oh don't start with that, young man. You want to spit in your father's face? That's what you're doing by fraternizing with hookers!"

Hey. Jesus, how many times did we have to go over this? I wasn't a hooker. You accept money _one_ time from a man and this is what happens. I was about two seconds from going in there and speaking my mind.

"I mean first it's the drinking and then the fighting. Now sex scandals? I thought you were going to work with us on this! But instead you go back to that... that filthy place!"

I grimaced. Jace was getting yelled at because of me.

"You avoided your security detail, and then showed up at yet _another_ crime scene. Not only that but you dragged your brother there as well! Alec is on track to become a federal judge, and yet you thought it be a good idea to bring him into this? How could you be so irresponsible?"

I acted without thinking. One moment I was behind the wall, trying not to cringe at Jace's misfortune, then I was inside the kitchen.

"It's not his fault, it's mine," I said, before I could stop myself.

Maryse and Jace turned to me at the same time. Their stares stopped me in my tracks. I wrapped an arm around myself and did the only thing I could think of: kept talking.

"I was the one who wanted to go back to Pandemonium. I made Jace, and Alec for that matter, take me," I blabbered. Maryse's expression got more livid, while Jace's held back a smile. "Um then I made Jace take me back to my apartment. So yeah, it's all my fault," I trailed off awkwardly. Jace was at a full-blown smile taking in my awkward state. I almost stuck my tongue out at him, but Maryse was too busy trying to burn a hole in my skull with her eyes.

She threw her glare at Jace, who immediately sobered up.

"Is this true?" she asked, raising her razor sharp eyebrows.

"Of course it is!" I interrupted before Jace could respond. Maryse trained her piercing stare at me. "I forced him to come. Threatened to tell the media if he didn't."

At that Maryse blew up at me, screaming things like "we have a deal," and "how dare you!" and "you hypnotizing, tramp!"

I ignored most of it, instead making eye contact with Jace. While he looked amused by the whole thing, I could tell he was thankful for my intervention. When Maryse was done exhausting herself, she left with one final warning,

"You better know your place, girl. Or so help me, I will show you." With that, she left. Personally, I'd been threatened better. But not everyone grew up with a tyrannical father, so I forgave her. Maryse burst through the kitchen doors, and they swung violently after she left.

I glanced at Jace. At the same time, we both burst into laughter. He came up to me and put an arm around me.

"Thanks for that," he said, laughing. "I'm usually the one to take the brunt of Maryse's anger."

His arm around me sent a flare of heat I didn't expect. I quickly untangled myself trying to maintain a respectful distance. I placed a strand of hair behind my ear.

"It was nothing. To be fair, I was the one that lead you to both places. So it wasn't that far off," I shrugged.

"Yeah well what happened wasn't your fault," he said, with sudden softness, His head was tilted, and he watched me with a gentleness I didn't expect. It made knots in my stomach.

"Why did you come to my place?" I asked. I expected him to make some joke or something equally ridiculous. Jace didn't break eye contact with me. His gold eyes were exquisite. Somehow they made him both fierce and soft at the same time. The juxtaposition was breathtaking. It was the kind of things artist's dreamt of capturing.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," he said. "About what happened in the alley... I'm sorry." Before I could respond, or even think about the fact that Jace was apologizing to me, he asked, "are you hungry?"

My stomach chose that exact moment to growl. Jace chuckled.

"I'll take that as a yes."

He rummaged through the fridge and pulled out some ingredients.

"Do you like grilled cheese?" he asked, reaching for a pan.

"Is that even a question," I joked, making myself comfortable at the island. I watched him, transfixed. Jace was making me food. Jace. I didn't even know he knew how to turn on the stove.

"So you cook?" I asked, hoping there'd be some explanation behind his unlikely character trait.

Jace buttered the bread. He didn't look at me as he spoke.

"Yeah. When I was younger, my parents were gone a lot. And my nanny was a horrible cook. I'd pretend to eat whatever monstrosity she put in front of me. Then later, when she was asleep, I'd sneak back into the kitchen and make something actually edible."

"Ah, I'm unlocking more of your backstory," I said, teasingly. He glanced at me and raised his eyebrows.

"Why do you want to know?" He handed me a slice of cheese to snack on, and I happily accepted.

I shrugged. "Trying to make out your character." I nibbled at the edge.

"And what have you discovered?" he asked, with a smirk.

"Very little." I said. I shoved the rest of the cheese in my mouth, eyes locked with Jace. He seemed satisfied with my answer and got back to cooking.

He pulled out two plates, a bag of chips, and napkins. He nodded to the stainless steel refrigerator.

"Can you grab two sodas? Then follow me."

I obliged, grabbing the sodas, and then hurried to follow Jace out of the kitchen. He passed the formal dining room, which promoted me to ask,

"Where exactly are we eating?" My stomach grumbled. The grilled cheeses smelled amazing. I had half a mind to grab mine from Jace and run.

"Now that'd ruin the surprise, Ginger."

I followed him deeper into the Institute. My curiosity overpowered my hunger for the moment. Damn, this place was huge. We went through a door I had just figured was a closet. Then we were walking up steps.

"If our grilled cheeses are getting cold..." I warned.

Jace chuckled. "Remind me not to piss you off when you're hungry," he said.

"Too late," I muttered. Before I could make another quip, Jace opened the door at the top of the stairs and lead me out onto a rooftop. I was at a loss for words as I took in the scene around me.

It was a conservatory with flowers everywhere growing in and out of pots, chasing up the glass panes, canopying across the ceilings. I let out a breathless "oh."

Jace watched my reaction as I took in the climbing purple appleberry, hoya-like flowers with red spots, jasmines, blue plumbago, a plethora of deep cerise pink flowers, and more. Colors seemed to explode at me no matter where I looked. They danced across my vision, sweeping together with the colors of the sunset beyond the pale glass.

"What do you think?" Jace asked softly.

"It's beautiful," I said breathlessly.

Jace didn't look away. "Yeah, it is," he said.

I wandered around, lightly touching the petals. I wanted to experience everything, feel every softness, prick myself on the thorns, breathe in the intoxicating scents.

Jace didn't rush me. He walked with me, seemingly lost in his own paradise. He was even more stunning surrounded by all this natural beauty—he belonged here among the flowers where his golden hair seemed to give life to the flora. When he breathed, the flowers seemed to move with him, waiting for any little secret he might tell. Every now and then he'd point out a certain flower he was worried I'd missed. I documented it all. I had to draw this, this feeling of wonderment and pure beauty.

It was a little while later that I remembered the grilled cheeses.

"Oh no! They're probably cold by now." I looked at Jace apologetically.

"Don't worry about it," Jace shrugged. He didn't seem to care about the food at all. He was more concerned with looking at the flowers. He grabbed the food and sat us under a surprisingly green section of the greenhouse.

"Why here?" I asked with a smile. He was very deliberate about this spot.

"You'll see," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

I giggled. "Okay, I trust you," I said.

He looked at me suddenly. His eyes lit up with something I couldn't understand. Then he handed me the now cold sandwich. I loved it anyway. I had a feeling I could eat cardboard and still the magic of this place would make it taste like a Michelin star meal.

We didn't eat much. Every now and then something would draw one of us away from the makeshift picnic towards a flower or leaf. We'd point out why it was beautiful or I'd tell him how I'd draw it. Sometimes he'd say how the flower reminded him of childhood memories. At one point, when we were sitting again near the thunderous green bushes, he decided to tell me why this place was so special to him.

"My mother was horrible with plants. The moment she touched them, they'd just keel over." He chuckled, reliving the happy memories he had of his mother. "But there was this orchid plant. It was a gag gift from my father because he knew how much she hated getting flowers as gifts. Anyway, by some miracle she managed to keep it alive. For three years, it bloomed every spring. My mother kept it in my father's home office just to spite him." He couldn't help but smile. When he talked about his family, he shed the persona of the Jace I knew, the bitter, arrogant guy who hated the world. When he talked about his family, he was a little boy again, filled with wonder.

"When they died..." he continued, his eyes turning stormy with the change in the story. I reached out and gently placed my hand on his. He looked down at it for a moment before linking his fingers with mine. I was shocked at the gesture but more so at how right it felt. My hand fit his like a puzzle piece. "I brought the orchid with me to the Institute. I was so worried it was going to die—I was only ten but it felt like the most real totem of my parents. When Isabelle saw how worried I was about it, she showed me this place." He gestured to the greenhouse with the hand that wasn't currently buried in my own. "It looked awful. Dead plants everywhere. Empty pots. She and Alec promised they'd help me restore it. And well... here it is now." He looked around it with pride. I watched him. I could see why it was so special to him now. "The orchid is over there actually. Still blooming."

I couldn't help but smile.

"I bet your mother would've loved this," I said.

"I'd like to think so," he said, a light blush creeping up his cheeks. I couldn't help it—I reached out and cupped his cheeks, feeling the flaring skin underneath my fingertips. I traced the color lightly, loving the way the pinks and the gold blended together. His eyes closed under my touch.

"Clary," he whispered. _Clary._ He said my name with such care like it was an incantation that would grant him his wildish dreams. When he opened his eyes, they weren't the usual bright gold I was used to. They were dark, swirling, and intoxicating. My chest felt tight, and my body felt too warm. The desire that coursed through me lit up every vein. My body was thrumming with excitement.

"Look, Clary," he said. I managed to tear my gaze from his inebriating one. All around me, the bushes I had figured for just that began blooming.

I gasped softly, as the white flowers opened up slowly, revealing its beauty to the world. It was seductive and breathtaking. It somehow left you wanting more.

Jace watched me as the flowers bloomed around us. When I shyly met his gaze again, I could see the clear desire there—not necessarily sexual desire but the kind of desire that the flower blooming elicited: you couldn't wait to see what other beauty it held.

I found myself leaning in, the sensual moment overwhelming me. Jace's fingers brushed against my blazing cheek, tracing the freckles. I shivered under the tender touch. His lips met mine softly at first, teasing. And before I knew it we were kissing. It felt like fireworks exploded in my stomach. His hands trailed down my back, and he pulled flush against his hard chest. My hands found their way to the nape of his neck, and I threaded them into his silky hair. Our lips, first moving sweetly, were now desperate and hungry. Shivers raced down my body. Jace's hand fisted in my shirt, as I let out a small moan. I parted my lips, wanting him to be closer.

Suddenly, a shrill voice broke us apart.

"Jace!" a yell came from far away. "Are you up there?"

Jace and I stared at each other wide-eyed. We were both slightly panting, breathless from that kiss. My heart felt like it wanted to slam out of my chest. But that feeling couldn't compare with how much I wanted my lips back on his, our bodies pressing together, our hands exploring... I could tell Jace wanted it too from the way his eyes were almost begging.

"Jace!" came Isabelle's voice, from beyond the flowers. "Your girlfriend is here!"

 **DAMNNNNNN okay so I couldn't help my fingers and their naughtiness but here I had to write the first official kiss between Jace and Clary! Thoughts? What was your guys' favorite line? Review and let me know your thoughtttssss! Thanks, lovelies!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you for all the reviews! I know you guys must hate Jace, but there's a lot more to this story!**

 **Chapter 13**

The moment it took for me to register what was happening seemed to occur in slow motion. I was blissfully happy, lips buzzing, heart thrumming with excitement. Then the voice, shrill and cold. Jace's face morphing from confusion to terror. The gut-wrenching feeling soiling my previous pleasure.

Girlfriend.

I thrust myself away from Jace's embrace.

"Clary, wait!" Jace leaned forward.

"Don't touch me," I snarled.

Girlfriend! How could I be so stupid? I knew he had a girlfriend. He'd told me that at Pandemonium when he refused my lap dance. Where was his restraint now?

"Wait, Clary, it's not what you think!" He kept his distance this time, but pleaded with his eyes for me not to leave. I didn't care. I headed for the exit of the conservatory.

"Oh it's perfectly clear, Jace! Is there even an orchid here, or was that just another one of your lies to get me to like you?" I spat. I wanted to shout so many things. How dare he use me like that? How dare he lead me on, make me feel like he cared, make me feel—No. I didn't want to entertain the possibility that Jace made me feel anything other than revulsion.

"Let me just explain!" he said, forgetting his previous politeness and followed me.

I wouldn't have let him because cheaters do one thing really well: lie. But I didn't have to tell him that because at that moment, a girl walked up the staircase, just as I tried to head down it.

She was impossibly beautiful. She had a bold face with natural angles YouTube makeup artists spend their tutorials replicating. Her dusky hazel eyes were rimmed with charcoal, making them sharp. Her black hair sat perfectly on her shoulders, as if it wouldn't dare be out of place.

I was stunned. But only for a moment. Because her eyes became cold and calculating as she took me in. Her once pretty face was soon marred with a scowl. Unluckily for her, pretty girls didn't scare me. I got over that shit quickly when I became a stripper—a job where hundreds of amazingly beautiful girls fought to be the prettiest.

"Who's this, bitch?" the girl said, again surprising me with such animosity.

I wanted so badly to put her in her place and say, "I'm the stripper your boyfriend paid to spend the night with him." It would be hell for Jace, and this girl's face would be priceless. But I didn't think incurring the wrath of Maryse was worth the small victory.

Besides, I didn't care about Jace or his girlfriend.

"Watch it, Aline," Jace snapped.

I didn't want to be there a second longer. I went past the girl, who refused to move the slightest. When I felt a sharp elbow press into my side, it took all my willpower to ignore it.

I headed back the way we came, willing my stomach to stop rolling. Memories of the kiss kept flashing in my mind, and my body didn't seem to catch up with how my head was feeling. I tried to tell myself it didn't matter. It was just a kiss with a guy. I'd kissed lots of guys before. But none that seemed to light a fire in my body.

But it didn't matter. It couldn't. Jace had a girlfriend. And more than that: he was cheating scum.

"Clary," Isabelle snapped, seeming to appear out of nowhere. She was wearing a perfectly pressed chartreuse jumper and dangly black pearls. I wondered what time it was and how Isabelle could look so put together. Did she sleep in pantsuits too?

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Someone's here to see you," she said. She glanced at her polished nails.

"Who?"

"Do you think I'm your maid? Stop getting me to do things for you," she snapped, then sauntered off, leaving me confused. All she did was answer the front door, and somehow that's enough to want to bite my head off.

I rolled my eyes and headed to the foyer. I was so done with this whacked-out family. If I wasn't getting yelled at by the mother-daughter bitch team, then I was getting played by a boy who knew the game so well, I hadn't realized we were playing.

And I hated losing.

When I turned the corner, I felt a smile break out on my face. Man, it was good to see Simon.

"Simon! What are you doing here?" I asked. I pulled him in for a hug. Sure enough, I felt instantly better.

"Uh, I just came to talk to you about..." he lowered his voice and looked around, "before."

My happy mood sobered up. I didn't think I could take more bad news.

"It was my father wasn't?" So many things would suck if that were true. The only solace being, I could leave this hellhole.

"No, it wasn't," Simon said. Before the full excitement of that statement could hit me, he continued. "But, we did find a listening device in your room."

"Wait, then how do you know it wasn't Valentine?"

As soon as Jace had suggested that there might be a listening device in my room, I panicked. It brought back unpleasant memories of when my father had planted a bug in my room to keep taps on me when he was out of town or working late. And he didn't do it out of caring for my safety. He did it to control me. I didn't know about it until he confronted me about putting on my mother's jewelry. He was so angry at me for "defying" her stuff, I literarily thought he was going to kill me. Luckily, he got a phone call about something that seemed to calm him down. He ignored me and left, leaving me curled in a corner paralyzed with fear. After that, I didn't feel safe in my room. I was always being watched.

"The craftsmanship was completely shoddy. Whoever did it was an amateur."

I bit my thumbnail. Since I wasn't worried with keeping up the manicure I usually had for the show, my old habits started creeping back.

"That doesn't mean it wasn't Valentine. He hires stupid people to do his bidding," I argued.

Simon shook his head. "Luke doesn't think so. If Valentine tried to have you killed and failed, he'd be a lot more careful about his plans knowing that you probably went to the police."

I supposed that made sense. Valentine was an extremely rational man when it came down to his illict activities. Sure, he'd lose his temper with me, but when it came to his job, he was scary calm.

"So if it's not Valentine, then who is after me? Is it safe to assume it's actually me and not Jace?" That thought made me anxious although I wasn't sure why. I didn't want to be here anymore, yet I didn't want to be alone in this either.

"Not exactly. We have to assume that Jace is still involved because of his ties to Idris. In fact, I'm here to talk to Mr. Starkweather about sending in a team to debug this place," Simon explained.

"Okay, well I won't stand in your way," I said. His news was good all things considered. Knowing that Valentine didn't bug my place was a relief.

Simon nodded, but he didn't walk away. He stood kind of awkwardly, half holding his arm and rocking.

"Um, Clary, who was that woman who answered the door?"

"Oh, uh Jace's sister, Isabelle." My eyes narrowed. "Why?"

He adjusted his glasses, something I knew he did when he got nervous.

"Uh no reason," he said quickly. "Do you know where Starkweather's office is?" he said, changing the subject.

I let it drop because truthfully, I didn't have the energy to press that topic. I shrugged.

"Your guess is as good as mine," I said.

"I'll help you!" Isabelle popped out of nowhere.

"Jesus! Woman, you need a bell or something," I said, clutching my chest. But she didn't offer a snarky reply as she was too busy smiling demurely at Simon—who in turn was eating it up.

"Yeah that'd be great," he said, readjusting his glasses. Isabelle led the way, and Simon followed her. I heard bits of conversation as they walked away.

"So you're a cop?"

"Soon to be detective actually," Simon bragged. I rolled my eyes as Isabelle flirtatiously cooed.

I headed up the grand steps with the beginnings of a massive headache. The idea of Isabelle and Simon together made me just as sick as remembering I kissed Jace. I had too much pent up frustration. I needed to go for a run.

Before I made it to my room, another voice stopped me. Anger flared through me. I really needed to just be alone.

"Clary?"

"What?" I snapped, more harshly than I meant to. Alec's electric blue eyes were shocked, then apologetic. He seemed to retreat into himself.

"Sorry. Never mind." He began to walk away. Guilt surged through me.

"No wait, Alec! I'm sorry. Um what did you need?" I asked. Alec turned back around. He seemed even more uncomfortable. He ran a hand through his black hair and looked everywhere but at me.

"Well, I was sort of wondering... um did you need to go back to Pandemonium for anything? Because if you did, I could, um you know. I could give you a ride?"

It took me a moment to work out what he was asking. He needed an excuse to go back to Pandemonium. I held back a smile. Magnus would be ecstatic.

"Yeah, actually. I think there are a few things I need to get. Wanna go tomorrow?"

Alec seemed relieved that I was playing into his game.

"That sounds good. Um I'll see you tomorrow around 3?"

"Oh actually I have class then. How about 5?"

"Yeah, I'll pick you up from campus," he said.

I nodded my head. We both didn't know what to say after that.

"Um, so are you doing okay?" Alec asked, clearly unsure of how to exit politely. I knew he didn't care. We weren't friends, heck I don't even think he really liked me. But I was doing him a favor, and that meant he wanted to be nice to me in return.

"I'm fine." I smiled weekly. "I'm actually going to go for a run."

Alec suddenly became serious.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

I shrugged. I didn't really think through the consequences, because then I might realize I'm truly stuck here. I needed to get out. I needed to take control my life, before it spiraled away from my grasp.

"Someone should go with you." Alec was being a voice of reason. But I didn't want to be reasonable. I just wanted to run until I couldn't breathe.

"It'll be fine," I said.

"We have a security team. Make sure you get one of them to go with you," Alec said.

"Sure, Alec," I said with a small smile. I didn't feel like arguing with him. But I wasn't about to get a security detail to follow me around Central Park while I ran.

He nodded once then walked away briskly. I went into my room and changed into a tank and running tights. After grabbing my iPhone and earphones, I left the Institute. The moment I opened the door, I felt like I could breathe for the fist time. I was free. No one controlled me.

I started running, endorphins and giddiness pumped through me the harder I pushed myself. When I finally slowed down, I was out of breath. I looked around my surroundings. I had taken a familiar path through Central Park, but I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere because I had no idea where I was. I took out my earphones. All I could hear was the sound of forestry. It was shockingly silent compared to the usual buzz of the city. I must've been deep into the heart of the park.

My heart now raced for a different reason: I was alone in the woods at night. I pulled out my phone to determine my location, but I couldn't get any signal.

"Fucking, Verizon," I gritted my teeth. "Service everywhere my ass."

I headed back the way I came. Every snap and rustle made my paranoia rampant. I kept telling myself that the sounds were natural, just the wild life, nothing to be concerned about.

 _Snap!_

I glanced behind me. The sound was dissimilar to the previous rustling sounds. My hair stood up. I picked up the pace, but the noises followed. I wasn't sure something was, but I didn't want to stop and find out. I took a sudden turn hoping to lose who or what was after me. The path ahead was much darker than the one I was previously on.

I ran a bit farther ahead and then stopped at a light post to listen. I couldn't see much except for the few feet of orange illumination.

I didn't hear anything.

My heart slowed, and the previous trepidation I felt slowly faded. I was just paranoid. I looked at my phone, relieved to see I had signal. Just as I was typing in the Institute address, I heard the sound of steps approaching. I glanced up just as the sounds quickened. Someone was running right towards me.

I took off in a sprint. The footsteps kept getting closer and closer, and I wasn't running fast enough. And then I smacked right into someone. We both fell off the path into the forest. We rolled down the hill deeper into the forest.

When we finally stopped rolling, I caught my breath. I glanced up to who it was who took the plunge with me and found myself staring at golden eyes.

Jace.

 **Review please! I love to know what you all think!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"Jace! What the hell?" I pushed him off of me, immediately missing the skin-to-skin contact we had going on. He was sweaty and warm, which should've grossed me out. But alas, my body was recalling our kiss instead of his treachery.

"Sorry," he said, wincing as he stood up.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, concerned. There was a gash down the length of his calve. "Oh my god." If it wasn't for the blood I'd have ogled his muscular calves a bit more.

"Tis but a scratch," he said, in a mockingly nonchalant way. I almost smiled.

"We should get that checked out," I said.

"I'm fine," he insisted.

I rolled my eyes. Typical man thinking that a serious injury is no big deal.

"Really, we should check if that needs stitches," I said, trying to examine it closer.

"How about you just take off your shirt and wrap it up," he said with a smirk. I almost played into his repartee, but then I remembered where that had led us before. I stopped playing nurse and stepped away from him.

"Did you follow me here?" I asked, crossing my arms. For how he used me, I shouldn't have given him the chance to explain himself. I should've just run off and left him bleeding alone.

He ran a hand through his hair. A light blush spread across his cheeks, but I couldn't be sure if that was from embarrassment or the exercise.

"Well kinda. Alec told me that you left to go for a run, and he didn't think you'd be safe. So I decided to go after you. But I lost you in Central Park and have been roaming around trying to find my way back."

I was kind of touched by that. He and Alec were worried about my safety (or, more likely, my silence). But something he said bothered me.

"Wait, so you weren't following me just now?"

"No. You ran into me, remember?"

A chill went through me. Someone was definitely chasing me, and it wasn't Jace. I was suddenly very happy about his presence. We stood there in silence, the sounds of the forest louder than our beating hearts. The moonlight peaked through the treetops, alighting the area with a milky mist.

"We should probably go, Jace," I said, looking around us. Paranoia was setting in. I couldn't help the hair-raising feeling that we were being watched.

"Wait." He stopped me as I was heading back up the hill. "Before—back in the conservatory that is—"

I held up my hand.

"I don't want to hear it, Jace," I said, angrily. I was grateful for his presence but that didn't mean I wasn't still pissed off from before.

"Just let me explain," he tried again.

"I'm not interested in your lies," I said dismissively.

"Look, I know I hurt you," he started, following me up the hill. I didn't want to look at him. I didn't want any part of me to betray how I was actually feeling. I barked out a laugh.

"Hurt me? You give yourself too much credit."

"Come on, Clary," he said. I wished he'd call me Ginger. Something about him saying my name was too personal like we were closer than we were. "I know you felt something. That kiss—"

"Was nothing special," I clarified. "In fact," I turned around so he could see the determination in my eyes. "I've had better."

His face registered the blow. First shock, then it formed into hurt. Then finally his familiar mask of indifference.

"Oh right. I forgot how trained you were thanks to your line of work," he commented dryly.

I glared at him. I wasn't _that_ kind of stripper, and I didn't like the implications.

"That's not what I meant," I said tersely.

"Whatever," he muttered.

We walked along in an uncomfortable silence. I kind of wished I hadn't been so quick to snap at him. Part of me wondered what he was going to say. But then I assured myself that it was probably a lie anyway. Jace Wayland was a notorious playboy who majored in spinning lies to get girls to sleep with him. And I had to remember that his sweet lips could spit out poison.

After a few minutes, I glanced over at Jace. I could see him limping, but trying not to reveal he was in any pain. I sighed and wrapped my arm around him so he didn't have to put weight on his leg.

"Come on. You need a hospital," I said.

He immediately stepped out of my grip.

"No!" he snapped.

I widened my eyes at his apparent aversion.

"Sorry. I... I just don't like hospitals. Can we just go home?"

Well no one did—they weren't usually places of merriment. But still, something about the craze in his eyes made me wonder what kind of personal vendetta he had against them.

"Sure, I'll call an Uber," I said, eyeing him with a modicum of concern.

20 minutes later we were walking up the steps of the Institute. We hadn't spoken the entire way. Before I could go open the door, Jace motioned for me to follow him.

"If we go in that way, Maryse will rip off our heads," he explained. I followed him around the side of the building

He stopped in front of a large white trellis snaked with trumpet vines and climbing hydrangeas. I followed the twisting plants up to a window on the third story. I put two and two together.

"No way," I said, shaking my head. "I'd rather face Maryse's wrath than die climbing up this."

Jace smiled.

"You're more scared of climbing up a ladder than Maryse? I'm not sure if that makes you stupid or brave," he said. He pulled on a rung of the trellis, and it groaned under his weight. The sound grated against my eardrums. This so wasn't safe.

"Jace, no," I said, grabbing his arm. "For someone who doesn't like hospitals, you sure are eager to get yourself stuck in one."

"Ye of little faith. I've climbed up and down this practically my whole life. It's not going to suddenly break under my weight and certainly not under yours," he added glancing at my petite frame.

Jace jumped down, wincing slightly. I glanced at the cut on his leg. It had stopped bleeding but seriously needed to be disinfected and bandaged.

"Here, you go first. I'll tell you where to step," he said, nudging me forward. I looked up, taking a deep breath. I had danced in front of hundreds of people; this trellis shouldn't have scared me. Plus, I was in peak physical condition—I could climb poles using sheer core and arm strength alone.

Jace helped me get my hold. His hand lingered on my back. I wanted to tell him to back off as much as I wanted him to keep it there.

"Okay that's good. Now lift your right foot to that second notch while lifting your right hand to where that red flower is," Jace said, coaching me.

I tried moving my foot, but his directions didn't quite make the connection from my brain to my foot. I jumped down, not wanting to waste our time with me trying and failing.

"You just do it," I said. "I'm more of a visual learner anyway."

Jace shrugged. With ease of I was jealous of, he scaled the trellis. He opened the window and swung himself through. Then he poked his head out and sent me a smirk.

"Your turn, Ginger," he said.

I sighed. There was no way of getting out of this. I started up again, trying to remember where exactly he put his feet and hands. The trellis trembled slightly underneath me, swaying into the brick wall of the house. I remembered the rock wall at my gym and seriously regretted never using it.

"That's good. You got this," Jace said in a soothing tone. I thought it was patronizing, but for once I don't think he actually meant it to be.

The higher I got up, the slower I moved. I missed a notch in the trellis and lost my footing for a second.

"You okay?" Jace called. And then I did the worse thing possible: I looked down.

Vertigo gripped me as my stomach lurched. The ground seemed to zoom away, moving farther and farther until it was just a kaleidoscope of blurs. My hands shook as I clutched the trellis tighter. Squeezing my eyes shut, I let out a small whimper.

"Clary?" His voice had a nervous edge to it.

Much to my horror, the trellis lurched backwards slightly. I screeched, while jerking forward so it would fall back in place.

"Clary!" Jace shouted. Distress laced his voice. Clearly he'd figured out the perils of the situation. "You need to keep climbing," he said, trying to steady his voice.

I knew that was what I had to do. The longer I just hung here, the more likely the trellis would fall or break under me. But fear spread through my body like ice, shutting down my ability to respond.

"I can't," I choked out. I gripped the trellis so hard, I could feel it splintering in my skin. The pain didn't register with me, only the icy fear that I could fall and break my neck.

"Sure you can. Just like you did earlier. Clary, sweetie, look at me," came Jace's soothing voice.

I wanted to look up. I wanted to see his golden eyes, his angelic face. I wanted that happiness, that beauty that he could elicit in me. I heard a crunching sound, different from the wood snapping. When I looked up I was shocked to see Jace hanging out of the window, one arm clutching the windowsill, the other reaching out to me.

"Just grab my arm," he said.

I stared at him in shock.

"There's no way you can hold me," I exclaimed.

Jace had the decency to not roll his eyes.

"You weigh like five pounds," he said. "It's okay. Just reach out and take my hand. You can still climb, but I won't let you fall."

The rock of the trellis caused me to shriek. My heart beat wildly against my chest as if it wanted to jump ship before my whole body went down.

"Clary, I need you to look at me." His voice was sure, but there was a slight plead to it. "I'll get you through this. You can... you can trust me." His last words seemed strained although I wasn't sure why. And considering my current situation, I wasn't about to delve into the minutia of his tone and its possible correlations.

I glanced up. I could see sweat starting to form on his upper lip. He was using a lot of his strength to just hold himself up. But his face was determined, and I knew without a doubt he wouldn't let me fall. The trellis groaned again, tired of my impatience. The creak seemed to resonate throughout the whole structure.

I quickly reached out to grab his hand. Once his warm flesh connected with mine, the fear seemed to dissipate. I quickly climbed the rest of the way up, while Jace held on tightly. The trellis seemed to mock my progress, shaking harder the higher I got up. When I reached his windowsill, he pulled me through with a sudden thrust. We both fell back: him landing on the carpet, me landing on him.

I didn't move for a couple minutes, willing my racing heart to slow down. Jace seemed perfectly content to just hold me on top of him. I closed my eyes, letting his comfort wash over me.

"Thanks," I breathed. The fading adrenaline ignited tremors throughout my body. Jace's hand stroked my arms, which only excited my fried nervous system. God, why did he affect me so strongly?

"Hey you're okay now. It's okay," he whispered.

Those words elicited a shock throughout my body. It reminded me too much of when he comforted me outside my apartment. And I had to remember that he wasn't who I thought he was. This sweet, caring bravado wasn't him. Or that's what I had to keep telling myself. I quickly got off of him. He seemed surprised by my sudden movement and let go of me.

"You told me that was safe," I said harshly, standing up. I glared at him, hoping to somehow undo the compromising feelings I had for him.

"It is," Jace argued, running a hand through his hair. "Look." He pointed out the window. "It's still intact. I didn't fall."

"Yeah but," I huffed. It sure felt like it was going to come crashing down while I was climbing it. "You practically hung out the window to 'rescue' me or whatever. So what do you say to that?" I placed my hands on my hips.

"You weren't moving. I figured you were scared. I didn't want you falling," he argued. My argument about the trellis ran dry. But, I was angry. Angry at whoever tried to kill me in the first place. Angry at my father for being a sociopath. Angry at the person who followed me around Central Park reminding me that no where was I free. Angry at Jace for being the person I desperately needed while simultaneously being the last person I wanted to be around.

"Well I don't need you or anyone saving me. So just stop," I said.

"Jeez, fine," Jace said putting up his hands in mock surrender. "I'll just be a bystander the next time you're in danger," he added with sarcasm.

"Good!" I shouted. I headed towards his door to leave, shower, and try to forget that my life was in shambles. But before I could leave, Jace shouted.

"Why won't you just admit you need help?" Jace said, apparently not going to let the whole matter drop like I would've preferred. I turned around.

"What?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"You act like you don't need anybody in the world!" he said.

"Because I don't," I responded stubbornly. Jace rolled his eyes. I walked up to him and poked him in the chest, floored by aggravation. "I learned how to be by myself a long time ago. And I don't need some wannabe knight in shining armor to swoop in and take credit for what I can easily do myself."

Jace grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer. I knew close combat, but I didn't push him away. At this point, I was craving relief from the terror and confusion I felt. And somehow, arguing with Jace and being close to him, helped. And as much as I'd hate myself for it later—for being weak in front of him—I _needed_ to feel something, anything other than fear. Jace's golden eyes looked down at me, searching. For what, I didn't know. But I felt exposed, flayed, like if he stared hard enough he'd see through the mask I've spent so much time hiding behind.

"I have to go shower," I said quietly. I needed to be strong, be the person I was forced to become because of my father.

I pulled away, and Jace let me.

* * *

 **Hello lovelies! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think! Review! Also what do you all think about the latest episode of Shadowhunters?**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The canvas became my punching bag. I slashed at it with my brush. I hurled paint like it was my fist. Art was all about putting feelings on paper. And if this canvas said anything it was that I was pissed off. Reds blended harshly with blues and blacks like a bleeding bruise.

My earphones were in, blasting some edgy song that only fueled my rage. I stepped back from it, not really caring how it looked. I didn't have an end goal. I just wanted to destroy. I grabbed my x-acto knife, but before I could slash through the painting, I saw Alec walking into the studio.

Alec, seeing me, walked over among all the other chisels and student stations. He glanced at the painting in front of me. I took out my earphones.

"Wow. That's really good," he said. And while I don't think he knew a thing about art, I could tell he was being genuine. "Is it some sort of edgy self-portrait?" he asked.

"What?" I looked at it. Sure enough there was what appeared to be a face in the painting. The metallic reds haloed it much like my own hair. The face was a mixture of ash and streaky blues like if despair had a color. I wanted to destroy it even more—just the way I wanted to destroy my own weakness.

"You shouldn't destroy it," Alec said, nodding towards the blade curled in my fist.

"I—what are you doing here?" I asked. I wasn't in the mood to be preached to about the value of creation. My mother had that conversation enough times with me that I had it memorized.

Alec seemed to shrink from his usual confident self. He ran a hand through his black hair. It looked like spilled ink. Suddenly, I wanted to draw it.

"You, uh needed a ride to um, Pandemonium. _Remember_?" he said, as if each word was a struggle.

I squinted my eyes as our conversation from last night came back to me.

"Of course!" I knew how uncomfortable this whole thing made him, and my forgetting didn't seem to incite warm feelings from him. "Let me just grab my stuff. I'll meet you out in the parking lot."

Alec just nodded and left the room quickly. I sighed. I wanted to help Alec get his flirt on with Magnus, but I was too busy to be playing chaperone. I supposed I could outline my project while I was at Pandemonium. Or hell, I could work. Get some quick cash. But after the giant check Magnus gave me from Jace's frat brothers and the fact I wasn't currently spending money on rent, I didn't need cash. It was surprising really. I never had this feeling before.

I gathered some of my supplies, stuffing them in my bag. I walked out of the building. Up ahead was the parking lot, separated by the quad. I watched kids throw Frisbees back in forth. Others laid out basking in the evening sun. Some walked with their friends, to or from classes. The college atmosphere was addictive. It meant freedom; freedom to do what you want now and to carve the path for your future. I had been like these students, full of hope and promise, just a couple days ago. Now with the incident... well my future was no longer my own.

That thought was enough to spoil my already-sour mood.

When I reached Alec's car I was in no mood to talk, which was completely fine with Alec. I'm sure he preferred it. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I felt the pull of my attention. When I looked around, I saw Jace. The sun kissed his sun, making him glow ethereally. It was as if the sun waited all day to caress his skin. An idea for a painting was taking shape only to be sullied by the person he was talking to: Aline. I scowled and crossed my arms.

Whatever bullshit Jace tried to sell me last night was clearly that.

"Damn that girl can't take hint," Alec said. I glanced over at him, surprised. He was glaring out the window at the couple. "This is like bordering on stalker."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Alec drove out of the parking lot. I watched them in the rearview mirror, until I couldn't see them anymore.

"They broke up like a week ago, but Aline won't leave Jace alone. It's pathetic. I mean she cheated on him, and she thinks she has the right to try to get him back," Alec said.

I tried to process this information. It didn't add up with what I knew.

"Are they back together? She came to the Institute last night and Isabelle called her Jace's girlfriend," I said casually, trying to act like I didn't desperately want to know the answer.

Alec snorted. "Isabelle calls every girl Jace's girlfriend. He's had so many, Isabelle doesn't even keep track any more."

That answer both satisfied me and annoyed me. How many girlfriends did Jace have? But there was no way I could ask that without it being mortifyingly obvious why I was asking.

"When he came to Pandemonium he told me he had a girlfriend," I said remembering how he didn't want a lap dance from me.

Alec just shrugged. "I mean I talked to him last night before he went out after you. He was pretty pissed off that Aline showed up. I don't think they're back together."

So then why did he tell me that he had a girlfriend? Did he just not want a lap dance from me? So much so he had to invent a relationship? The thought made me feel like shit.

But that also meant that when Jace kissed me, he wasn't in a relationship. Which meant...

No.

I didn't want to think about the implications of his kiss. Or how soft his lips were, how urgent his hands were, how his hard body fit against mine or—

Oh my god, I had to get a grip.

I had too much going on to be thinking about what a little kiss meant. Just because Jace didn't have a girlfriend didn't mean I wasn't another one of his conquests. Jace was a player. That's what the tabloids say, hell that's what his own stepsister thinks.

But did that mean I had to stay away? If I knew the game, there was no reason I couldn't join. And my body wanted to play.

We were quiet the rest of the way, which I normally would've preferred. But under these circumstances, with what I now know, I wanted Alec to talk, to distract me. My thoughts kept rolling back to the kiss like waves returning to the ocean.

When we got to Pandemonium, both of us sat in the car, unsure how to instigate going inside. I wasn't sure what Alec wanted exactly. I don't think he knew either.

"So, I'll head around back and you can go in the front. I'll meet you in the main area when I have my stuff?" I suggested. The moment he walked through the front door, Magnus would know he was there. And Magnus would handle whatever this situation was.

"Sure," he said, completely unsure.

We parted ways. I got to the dressing room, the familiar smell of perfume and makeup hit me. I breathed in deep. God, I missed getting dolled up.

There were a few girls getting ready. It was only six o'clock. But it was already picking up. Monday was a surprisingly busy day. People were desperate to keep the weekend going. Or they needed a pick me up to get through the week. I looked around for Maia, not sure if she was working today.

I didn't bother the busy girls curling their fake lashes and stuffing their toned bodies into lingerie. I glanced through the curtain and saw Seelie on stage dancing. Men scattered around the club, some entranced by her, others talking amongst themselves or flirting with the servers. I saw the back of Maia, serving some guy a drink. Alec and Magnus sat at a table chatting. I smiled when I saw them. Alec didn't look any less pinched than he usually did, but he seemed to be enjoying talking to Magnus. And Magnus was just elated by the specimen sitting in front of him.

I went out through one of the doors leading into the club. I saw at the bar, waiting for a chance to talk to Maia. One of the older girls was bartending. She smiled at me and asked what I wanted. It probably wasn't the best idea to start drinking, but after the weekend I had, I welcomed a chance at a little reprieve.

I ordered a drink and sat facing the stage. I watched Seelie move her body to the music like the song was made to show her off. I felt a twinge of jealously. My muscles missed the twisting, leaning, and climbing. I loved stripping. I loved how the music washed over me. I loved how with just a few movements, I could command the attention of a room. It was power. It was control. It was something everyone wanted, and I used to have it.

"Well isn't this a surprise," a soft voice said to me, sliding into the seat next to me.

I glanced over, starting in my chair. It was Jace's frat brother—the one with the black eyes. The darkness of the club didn't hide his attractiveness. His icy blonde hair was slicked back stylishly like at any moment he would jet off to some penthouse party. He wore a baby blue collared shirt, sleeves rolled up and open collar underneath a crisp navy vest and matching navy pants that seemed to be tailored for his body. He was devilishly handsome, and for a moment, I forgot how he'd creeped me out the last time we met.

"Ginger, right?" he asked. I held back a wince as my guard immediately went up. This impromptu chat didn't seem like a surprise. "I'm Sebastian."

"I'm not working tonight," I said dismissively. Hopefully, this guy would take the hint and leave.

He chuckled softly.

"No matter," he motioned to the bartender for a drink. I rolled my eyes. I guess he was staying. "You were here the other night weren't you?"

"Which night?" I asked, sipping my drink. I debated getting up and walking away. But Sebastian wasn't being that much of a bother so far. He was just engaging in unwanted conversation. I saw him slip the bartender a large tip and felt myself relax a little. He was good for business.

"I believe you danced for one of my friends," he said. I winced, hoping he wasn't going to mention the going home with him part. I glanced at him. He was surveying the club with a carelessness that betrayed his calculating gaze.

"Sure, the blonde guy," I said. I took another sip of my drink not sure what to say. I felt like I was being held verbally hostage, at the mercy of whatever he wanted to ask. How could this stranger elicit such a submissive side of me?

"Do you like working here?" he asked, surprising me with the sudden change of conversation. Relief swelled through me.

"Um sure. It beats flipping burgers," I said with a shrug. He chuckled. The sound of his laugh was nice.

"I bet. I like it here. You never feel alone," he said. His voice was sad, and I felt a pang in my heart. Sure we got the usual sleezeballs who came to Pandemonium to get some sort of sexual satisfaction. But for a lot of guys, it was a place of comfort. It was twisted, but some people would do anything to feel like they belonged.

"Are you here often?" I asked. I mean he was here on a Monday by himself, so I figured he spent a lot of time here.

"Nah. As lovely as the women are, I've only been here a couple of times. It's a shame really," he said. He regarded the club with a bored gaze, and his previous statement seemed weaker. "You're better than her, you know," Sebastian added, lifting his glass towards Seelie's direction. She was currently gyrating, hands above her head clutching the pole.

I smiled. "Oh I know." Sebastian laughed. Before everything, Meliorn had been considering giving me a solo, which was unheard of for girls with my status. And if Seelie hadn't kept butting in, worried about her territory, I probably would've.

He pulled out his phone, apologizing to me first.

"Hey, Jace," he said, into the phone.

My heart jumped, as I tried to remain calm. I finished off my drink, as the first wave of the buzz hit me. Whoa. I forgot how strong, the bartender made these drinks (for the girls anyway, patrons got regular amounts of alcohol since we wanted them to spend more money on drinks). "Sure, I'll meet you there." He hung up. "Sorry about that. Jace, the guy you danced with, wanted me to meet up with him at Alicante."

I tried not to show too much interest.

"Oh? On a Monday?" I asked. I'm sure it was against the rules for Jace to be going out clubbing. I bit the inside of my cheek. Hodge and Maryse would be furious if they found out. Not to mention, he could be putting himself in danger.

Sebastian busied himself with pulling on his blazer. "Yeah apparently he had a rough day or something."

I thought back to Aline cornering him. She must've done something to piss him off. The thought made me giddy.

"If you get bored, we'll probably be there for a bit," Sebastian handed me his business card. Normally it'd be weird that a college kid had business cards, but it didn't seem unusual for Sebastian. "I'll show you my trademarked moves." Sebastian finished his drink with a wink.

I laughed, while secretly wondering if he was any good. His suit did justice to his toned body. Maybe it was the drink, or maybe I wanted a bigger reprieve than just one drink.

"Maybe I'll let you," I said with a coy smile.

"I hope so," he said, flashing me a smile. His canines were sharper than most people's. Everything about him screamed devil, while he acted like an angel. It was a confusing, albeit hot, dichotomy. He walked out the club, not giving any of the girls a second glance.

I wanted to go to Alicante—to see Sebastian that is. But Jace's face wouldn't leave my mind. And the fluttering in my chest didn't occur when I was with Sebastian. I glanced over to where Alec was sitting. He wouldn't approve of Jace being at Alicante or me going. But, he would approve if Simon was there.

I tapped my drink, indicating I needed a refill. Then I called Simon.

"Hey, Clary," he said. I could hear some sort of video game in the background. Simon had worked through the weekend, so he had Monday off. "What's up?"

"How do you feel about going clubbing?" I asked sweetly.

"Mhm, I don't know. It's not really my scene."

I sighed. Simon was more of a party at home with friends kind of guy. Not that anything was wrong with that. It just sucked trying to convince him. He also wasn't a fan of me using my government-approved fake to go out drinking. Luke snagged it for me when I first ran away from Valentine. He made me older to make sure there was no way it could be used to connect me to my real identity. And now it said I was twenty-one, which was sweet when I wanted to get into clubs.

"It's just that I want to go out and have fun, since everything has been so chaotic," I said. I didn't want to tell him I was going because Jace was there. I don't think that would inspire him to jump on board.

"Aw, Clary, yeah of course I'll go with you. Need a ride?" he asked. His sweetness immediately made me guilty. I felt like I was taking advantage of him. I wanted to do something for him. And unfortunately I knew what I could do.

"Thanks, Si," I said. "And yeah, I'm at Pandemonium."

"Why?" he asked, suddenly alarmed. I heard the game pause.

"Oh just to pick up a few things," I said, unsure of why I was defending Alec. "Alec is here with me," I said to reassure him. Simon didn't think Alec was suitable protection but didn't argue anymore because he'd be with me soon.

I steeled my resolve and walked over to Alec and Magnus. As soon as I approached the booth, both of them looked like they'd rather me be gone. I bit back a grin. Looks like it was going well.

"Hey, Alec, Simon is going to come get me," I started. He nodded, seemingly relieved I wasn't there to ask for a ride home. Magnus clicked his fingernails against the wooden table as a subtle indicator of my unwanted presence. "Um, do you have Isabelle's number?"

This caused Alec's eyebrows to shoot up. He didn't seem like someone who got easily surprised. He gave it to me, and I quickly got out of that flirt-fest. Sighing I typed her number in my phone. As it rang, I wondered how I was going to word any of this.

"This is Isabelle," her voice came across the phone in that prissy, formal way I was getting used to. I took a breath.

"Hey, Isabelle, this is Clary." There was a pause on the other end.

"How'd you get this number?" Suspicion laced her tone as if I was incriminating her in one of my crimes.

"From Alec," I said. I heard her sigh.

"What do you want?"

"Um are you free tonight?" I asked. Before she could respond no and hang up, I quickly rushed out, "Simon and I are going to Alicante tonight, and I was wondering if you wanted to come."

She was quiet for a moment.

"Well, I was thinking about going anyway," she said, dismissively. "I guess if I ran into you two it wouldn't be so bad."

I rolled my eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

"Great, we'll be there in like twenty minutes."

"What?! Twenty minutes. That's all the time you're giving me to get ready?" she shrieked over the phone.

"I—"I started, but before I could say anything she hung up, presumably to go get ready. I almost rolled her eyes at her antics, but then I bit my lip. I had forgot about "getting ready." I was still in my jeans and flannel that I used for painting. And if I was going to go out, I should do it the right way.

It was then Maia saw me. Smiling, she came over carrying the server's tray.

"Clary! I'm so glad to see you!" She enveloped me in a big hug, and her smell of vanilla washed over me. I breathed it in, happy for the familiar scent. "What's been happening with you?"

"You almost off?" I asked. I wanted to tell her so much, but I didn't have time right now.

She pulled her phone out of her cleavage, shot me a grin, then glanced at the time.

"In like an hour. Why?"

"Come to Alicante, and I'll tell you everything that's been going on with me," I said.

"Alicante?" She raised her eyebrows, as if waiting for an explanation.

"Just come," I said. "Also, can I use some makeup and maybe a shirt?"

She laughed at that.

"Wrong place to be asking for a shirt," she said. "I may have a dress or something back there. Feel free to use anything. I'm going to make the most of this last hour because the first thing we're doing at Alicante is getting shots." She shot me a wolfish grin and headed off swaying her hips for everyone's pleasure.

I practically ran to the back room and sat at Maia's vanity. Luckily, I had put on foundation already because Maia's skin tone did not match mine. Since it was Monday and also only around eight, I didn't go as dramatic as I usually would. I did a pink smokey eye. Added some contour and blush. After a couple swipes of mascara, I looked through Maia's bag of clothes. Most of her clothes were clearly for bustier women—the one area I lacked that exercising couldn't fix. I didn't mind my bra size, but Seelie and the other strippers liked to tease me for it. But that's what push up bras were for.

However, most of these dresses really extenuated those assets I didn't posses. Luckily I found a pretty spaghetti top, body con dress that was mauve with black lace and sequins. I slipped it on my body, foregoing the bra. That was the one nice thing about having a small chest. I grabbed a pair of her stilettos, tying the laces up my calves like vines.

I looked in the mirror. I took my hair down from the ponytail and it cascaded around me. It was frizzy and unmanageable under the time restraints. But I didn't care. I sort of liked when it looked wild. It matched how I felt at the moment.

I grabbed the flannel and wrapped it around me, glad to have the coverage. I'd take it off once I got to the club, but I didn't want the hungry eyes of people following me on the way there. I drank another drink while I waited for Simon.

When he got there, I was feeling great. I couldn't wait to just dance with my friends and be normal for the night. Simon took one look at my outfit and then whistled.

"Wow, I feel underdressed. You look amazing, Clary," he said.

I kissed his cheek.

"You look great, Simon."

And he did. He wore dark wash jeans and button-down shirt.

"Roll up your sleeves a bit, Si," I suggested thinking back to Sebastian's outfit. "It increases the hotness factor by like ten."

He did as I told, as I got into his black sedan. We chatted comfortably on our way there. I told him off the bat that I didn't want to hear anything about the case. I wanted tonight to be perfect and crazy-free. When we got to Alicante, I felt oddly nervous. I shed my flannel, squared my shoulders, and smiled. Tonight was going to be great.

As soon as we got inside, a pounding baseline descended on me. My hips swayed if on instinct. I grabbed Simon's hand and dragged him through the crowd to the bar. I didn't matter that it was early on a Monday. Alicante always had a crowd.

I ordered us two rum and cokes, knowing Simon preferred those. When I handed him his, he sighed.

"I think I'll stick with beer tonight," he said. I smiled and nudged him. He looked up to see Isabelle at a table of girls, smiling and flipping her hair back. She looked incredible as if she was giving the middle finger to the twenty minutes she had to get ready. Her hair glistened under the pulsating neon lights. I couldn't tell what she was wearing, but I was sure it was as glamorous as it looked.

Simon pushed his glasses up his nose.

"Shit," he breathed. He downed the rum and coke he was holding. Then he took mine and finished it off as well.

"I'll just go get us some more," I said, with a giggle. Simon made a noise of response, but he was too busy staring at Isabelle. I couldn't tell if she'd noticed him or not, but the laughing and flipping of hair seemed too perfect for it to be a coincidence.

I went back to the bar, waiting amongst the other partygoers ready to forget their troubles at the bottom of a glass. As I waited, I felt a hand touch my lower back. I immediately tensed and moved away. When I glanced back, I saw Sebastian. He was completely unaware of my response to his touch.

"Ginger! Glad you could make it," he said with a broad smile. I smiled back, but looked over his shoulder, my eyes searching for a different blonde head. He claimed my attention again. "You look incredible. We're over at that table," he said pointing. I looked in the direction and felt my breath catch.

Jace sat with some other boys. They were laughing about something. Jace smiled along, then glanced around the club. As if there was a magnetic current in the room, he immediately found mine. Surprise laced his face. Then it settled leaving excitement. He sent a smirk my way. I felt my lips turn up as my heart flipped.

The game was so on.

 **Guys, I've loved all the reviews! You've all been so sweet. Tell me what you think of the chapter/story in general.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks everyone for all the wonderful reviews! I appreciate the enthusiasm so much! Sorry it's taken so long to upload this chapter. I wanted to get something to you guys, so here it is! Hope you enjoy! Also can we talk real quickly about the travesty that is Shadowhunters? Why is it that the actor of young Jace is somehow more like "book Jace" in the 2 min of screen time he had than Dom has been throughout the 2 seasons? Also I really wish they'd put some chapstick on Dom-his lips really bother me. What do you all think about everything that show has been doing to our beloved characters/storylines?**

 **Chapter 16**

"So what're you drinking?" Sebastian asked. I tore my gaze from Jace. I smiled demurely at Sebastian, running my hand down his arm.

"I'll have what you're having," I said, with a smile. I was tempted to see if Jace was watching. This show was for him after all. But that'd ruin the effect.

"I don't think you can handle what I'm having, Clary," he said with a sly smile. I stopped for a second. I didn't remember telling him my real name. But I guessed Jace probably did. That meant Jace was talking about me. The thrill of happiness that shot through me shouldn't have. But my body didn't seem to want to listen to my brain. And tonight I wasn't going to stop it.

"Try me, rich boy," I said, with a smirk.

"Make that three," a voice came from behind me. I closed my eyes briefly. Every cell in my body reacted to his proximity. I turned around.

 _Jace._

Jace's eyes traveled down my body, making my nerves buzz. He swallowed and then met my eyes.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hi," I said, not able to look away from his magnetic, gold eyes. I wanted to be closer and farther away at the same time. I didn't trust my trembling hands.

I felt Sebastian's arm snake around my shoulder as he handed me a shot glass. He then gave Jace one. When Sebastian didn't move his arm from my shoulder, Jace's jaw clenched.

"Hope you can handle tequila," Sebastian said, lifting his glass in the air. We all followed, but I was staring at Jace.

The tequila went down with a trail of licking fire. I watched Jace's mouth move against the shot glass, then I watched his throat as he swallowed. My mouth watered unexpectedly. I wanted to lick the hollow between his neck and collarbone. I realized I was staring and quickly blushed when I noticed Jace watching me.

He glanced at Sebastian's arm again. His golden eyes simmered. I couldn't even feel Sebastian's arm. My body buzzed for Jace.

"Wanna dance," he asked.

Yeah the vertical dance, on the floor. But I kept my mouth shut and nodded. I was still playing a game. I had to remember that.

Jace pulled me from Sebastian's embrace, who didn't seem to mind in the slightest that we were leaving him. I didn't think any more of it because all I could think about was how Jace's pulse raced, as excited as mine was.

Once we found a spot, Jace seemed at a loss for what to do next. Luckily this was my area of expertise. As luck would have it, one my favorite songs came on—the one that would've been my solo. I swayed my hips slowly. I lifted my arms above my head, letting the music and the lights wash over me. I brought my arms down, running my hands down his muscular chest. He took that as a signal to touch me. Tentatively, he put out his hands, grazing my waist. Then, with more confidence, he gripped my hips and pulled me closer.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, my hips still swaying with the beat. I lowered my self, slightly, letting my hands drag down hinting at the places they'll go. Jace looked up at the lights, momentarily catching his breath. My hands went back around his neck, as I turned myself in his grip so my ass could grind against him.

He made a noise somewhere between a growl and a moan, but the music washed it out. His grip tightened around my waist. I sent him a demure smile over my shoulder. I took his hands and slowly guided them across my body. I could feel his breath, shaky against my hair. He leaned forward so his lips were next to my ear. His warm breath fanned my neck, and I craned my neck to allow him more access. I let go of one of his hands, keeping the other on my stomach. He dragged his hand tortuously slow up my body to my neck. His hand softly brushed my shoulder, taking the strap with it. I closed my eyes under his touch. When I felt his lips brush my shoulder, my breath hitched. He replaced the strap as his teeth dragged across my neck. I couldn't help the breathy moan that escaped me. After another swirl of my hips, I turned back around fitting right into his embrace.

The pulsating lights danced across his skin moving onto mine. His eyes drew me in like warm honey. My hands were on his chest. He took one within his hand, threading his fingers through mine. His other hand was on my back, keeping me close. Our chests touched. I could feel his heart beating. Or it was my heart. I couldn't tell. Our bodies throbbed for each other.

"Clary, about Aline..." he started. I brought my finger up to his lips.

"Ssshh, it's okay. I know," I said. My finger traced his lips as they stretched into a smile. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on mine while we swayed to the music. I wasn't even aware if I was on beat. It didn't seem to matter anymore. Nothing did: not my original intention of playing with him, not the other club goers—nothing except me and Jace under the twinkling skylight of lights.

I don't know how long we stood like that, just holding each other. But I felt Jace stiffen under me. When I looked up I saw him glowering behind me. I twisted my neck following his line of sight. His frat brothers were mimicking obscene sexual acts in our direction while laughing. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks.

"Wanna get out of here?" Jace asked. My thoughts leaped to the suggestive movements his frat brothers. He didn't think I was going to have sex with him did he? Jace must have noticed my apprehension because he quickly added, "There's a pizza place right down the street from here. Are you hungry?"

I let out a breath of relief. Pizza I could do. He lead me across the dance floor, careful to avoid his frat brothers. I couldn't help but glance back. They were hysterical, believing we were leaving to follow their suggestions. But strangely enough it wasn't their immaturity that caught my attention. It was the pair of eyes that looked completely black from across the room. Sebastian watched us leave with an expression I couldn't discern. I fought a shiver.

But my creepy premonition was pushed aside momentarily as my eyes landed on Simon and Isabelle. They were laughing. Isabelle looked... different around Simon. Her face wasn't pinched with distaste. She looked carefree—happy, beautiful even. I didn't want to intrude on their lovely time, so instead I sent Simon a quick text saying where I'd be in case he came looking. A smug thought filled me as I left the club with Jace: I was really good at setting up the Lightwood siblings.

Jace's hand stayed on the small of my back, leading me to the pizza place down the road.

"Sorry about that before," he said, with an annoyed huff of breath.

I shrugged. Honestly, I expected nothing less from pig-headed frat boys. But Jace was adamant that he wasn't like that.

"I'm not like them. I swear," he added, sending me hasty look. I glanced at him. It almost seemed like he cared about what I thought of him. I moved out of his guiding hand. Dejected, he let it fall to his side. He didn't expect me to reach out for said hand and intertwine my fingers with his.

I gave him a squeeze.

"Of course not. You're a _gentleman_ ," I said teasingly referring to our earlier conversation. He smirked, drawing me closer with his arm.

"I'll try not to be too charming tonight. If I'm not careful, you'll be all over me," he said, batting his eyelashes.

I snorted.

"I'll try to keep my hands to myself," I said dryly.

"Certainly not," Jace added. "I rather like your small hands." He lifted our enclosed hands to his mouth, placing a chaste kiss on the back of mine, surprising me. His lips lingered, and I felt my throat dry up. He opened his eye. Their blazing gaze captured mine.

The smell of pizza surrounded us suddenly, offering me a reprieve from his delicious scent. I leaned back, surprised at how drawn my body was to his.

"Pizza," I reminded him weakly.

He took a shaky breath. His smirk returned, and we entered the restaurant. The smell of Italian goodness hit me harder than it did outside. My mouth watered. I didn't realize how hungry I was. The bistro was small and cozy. The lights were dimmed and there was a rustic feel that permeated throughout. Jace grabbed a dark red cushioned booth towards the back. I admired his choice: cozy and private.

It was a relief to have a table separating us. I didn't understand my body's reactions. I'd been attracted to guys before, but nothing had ever been like this. There was almost an ache that descended on me, missing the feel of him against me. I chalked it up to the alcohol—I had drunk a lot tonight. Although funnily enough, my head was clear. It was my body that buzzed.

A waiter came by and dropped off two menus. We each got a drink. Me: iced tea. Him: coke.

"So what kind of pizza do you like, Ginger? I seem to recall you having a voracious appetite," he said, smirking over the menu.

My stomach growled as I looked over the menu. Everything seemed amazing.

"Anything with sausage," I said.

"Well if that's the case," Jace said wiggling his eyebrows. I blushed when I realized the insinuation of what I said.

"I thought you were being a gentleman tonight," I said raising my eyebrows.

"Well if you're going to play dirty..." he smirked. Before I could respond, the waiter came back.

Jace ordered a sausage and artichoke pizza.

"Artichoke?" I asked surprised.

"Yeah. Wait, do you like artichoke?" Jace asked.

"Sure. I just never thought to put it on pizza," I said, with a shrug. Jace flashed me a smile.

"Well then you haven't lived yet," he said. "Trust me, you'll enjoy it."

I laughed.

"I'm putting my taste buds in your hands," I said, squinting at him and pointing my finger. "This is the highest form of trust."

Jace bowed.

"I am honored, and will make it my life's mission to not disappoint," he said. A grin spread across my face, and with a start, I realized how easy it was to smile around him. With everything that was going on in my life, I was surprised I could even still enjoy things. And I couldn't shake the feeling that if I was still at the club, or anywhere for that matter—anywhere that wasn't with Jace—I wouldn't be feeling this elated. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, clearly attune to the minutia of my face.

"Nothing," I tried to wave it off, but he persisted. "This is really nice—being here with you. With everything that's happened..." I blew out a puff of breath. "It's nice to feel normal."

Jace surprised me by reaching over the table and touching my hand. He brushed his fingers lightly over my knuckles.

"You deserve to be happy," he said, suddenly quite serious. My heart sped up.

"Life apparently thinks differently," I said faintly.

When he met my eyes, I was surprised to see how tortured they looked.

"It shouldn't be like this. People like you, the ones who've done nothing wrong, they shouldn't be the ones suffering," he said. He squeezed my hand a little to hard like he wanted me to understand something. I couldn't fathom what it was. Moreover, I was surprised by the change from carefree Jace to the Jace who looked like he'd grown up seeing demons. I was filled with the intense desire to make it better, to replace that tortured look with the one that looked like the sun on a cloudless day.

"Jace." I covered his hand with my own. "I know you must be scared too. But the best cops are on it. They'll find who's after us."

He gave me a bitter smile.

"Then it'll all be over. And maybe I don't want it to be," he said quietly.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He looked away, searching the restaurant for some answer he couldn't find. His eyes found mind—an intense expression upon his face.

"Do you believe in karma?" he asked.

"Like 'you get what's coming to you' kinda thing?" I asked, more confused than ever by this line of questioning. He nodded. "No," I said finally. "I don't think the universe has this giant board with tallies on it to even out the score between people. I think life is just full of good and bad things and they're doled out in no particular order."

I thought back to what I experienced growing up. Shitty things just happened—sometimes to good people. That's what I had to believe. I didn't want to think there was some cosmic entity who decided what shit happened to who. If I did, well that person would have a lot to answer for.

I wasn't sure if that was the answer Jace wanted or not, but before I inquire about his bizarre line of questioning, the pizza arrived. We fell into light conversation after that, between bites of the amazing pizza. After demolished the whole pizza—my dress definitely felt snugger— I complimented him on the choice of pizza.

"See life can't be _that_ bad. At least there's pizza in it," I said, nibbling on the leftover crust. Jace laughed.

"You're not wrong," he said. The night felt so peaceful—we were in a cocoon of candles and full bellies. I never wanted it to end.

"How's your leg?" I asked, recalling the gash from the other night. Everything else that happened that night came flooding back. I suddenly wished I was more careful with my choice of conversation. I didn't want to think about what he said to me or how I responded.

"It's fine. Wasn't too deep a cut," he said, with a shrug.

"I still think you should've gone to the hospital," I said.

"Yeah well when you witness both your parents die in the hospital, it's not really on your top destinations list," he said with sudden bitterness. The table's candle sent flickering shadows across his face. I placed a hand over my mouth, shocked at his sudden revelation.

"Oh my god, Jace. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

Jace quickly interrupted me, eyes wide.

"No. I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from. I shouldn't be dumping my problems on the table like that," he said. He seemed to retreat to himself, a mask slowly descending on his face. He tried to smirk it away.

"Jace," I said, reaching over to touch him—to offer him some sort of comfort. But he pulled his hand away. He placed them behind his head, with forced nonchalance.

"Look, I don't need your sympathies. It sucked, but it's in the past," he said. His smile didn't reach his eyes. I really didn't want to pry—I didn't want anything to ruin this perfect evening. But I couldn't stop my mouth from opening.

"Well, I'm here if you need to talk," I said.

Jace looked at me, head tilted sideways like I was a puzzle.

"Why?" he asked, slightly exasperated. "I've been nothing but a dick to you since we've met, and yet you want to help me?"

I thought about it for a second. Sure, on many of the occasions he'd been an intolerable jerk who needed a good slap in the face. But, there was more to him than those moments. Time and time again, he was the one helping me, being the light in my dark world. And that's why I wanted to help him now. Because no matter which way I diced it, I was connected to him. We were thrown into this whole mess together and it changed both of us. And every moment we spent together after, changed us—altered the balance of our relationship to the point where I actually cared for him.

I cared about Jace.

But it wasn't that easy to admit.

"You're more than that guy," I said, instead.

"Don't be so sure, Ginger," he said, softly.

 **So what do you guys think? Do you think Clary should care for Jace at all? Why is Jace so angsty? Review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello lovelies! So sorry for the late posting. Someone had messaged me previously asking about my update schedule. I'm a proper disgrace because I don't have an actual schedule. However, I do try to post every other week normally around the weekend (think sunday's). Anyway, because I love you all and your reviews give me life, here's a nice long chapter filled with goodies. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Chapter 17**

The reappearance of angsty-bad boy Jace reminded me of his anti-hero rhetoric of previous conversations. He was a mystery, hot one minute and cold the next. I wanted to press him—figure out how life had hurt him, unlock his tragic backstory. But I was afraid—afraid he wouldn't trust me enough to tell me about it, or, even worse, that we would suddenly be sharing in vulnerability. And I couldn't allow myself to let someone in—it was too dangerous.

But I didn't have to worry because Simon and Isabelle entered the pizza joint. They found us and headed toward our table. I glanced at Jace. He didn't seem overly thrilled with their presence. And neither did I, for that matter. Even if we weren't going to share in our tragedies, I wanted to experience Jace unaltered, unbothered by company.

"You could've at least saved us some pizza," Isabelle huffed, sliding next to Jace. Simon sat next to me. Jace shot him a barely concealed glare.

"Didn't know you were coming," Jace said with a hint of sarcasm.

"Oh, Clary, your friend Maia showed up at Alicante," Simon said, nudging me. "She said you were supposed to meet her there."

"Oh crap!" I face-palmed myself. "I totally forgot. I should go meet her." I snuck a glance at Jace. I bit my lip, unsure if I should invite him or not. I didn't want our night to end, but I was walking along uncharted territory. Plus, I wanted to spill everything that happened to Maia, especially my conflicting feelings for Jace.

"I'm probably going to head home. It's late and all," Jace said. I felt my shoulders sag in disappointment. So he was ready to call it a night. I wondered if that had to do with our sudden shift in conversation.

"Wait, Jace," Isabelle said, stopping him with her hand. "Clary, you should really just go home with Jace. I mean, you both really shouldn't be out. It's not safe," she said matter-of-factly.

I stared at her with a funny expression. I don't believe for a moment that she gave a rat's ass about my safety. I was more willing to believe she understood the situation and that if I left to go to the club, Simon would feel obliged to come with me. And she didn't want to her night to end early because of the target on my back.

"Um, but my friend—" I started.

"Will understand." Isabelle waved her hand. "I'll even call your security detail to come pick you up, so Simon doesn't worry about you getting home safe."

I stared at her in shock. Damn, this girl was playing on a whole other level—she had a plan and everything. I glanced at Simon, wondering what his whole take on this was. Simon rubbed the back of his head with his hand. Isabelle stared at him too, with a pointed expression across her model-worthy face. Simon sent me a sheepish look.

"Yeah, Clary. Isabelle is right. It might just be better to go back to the Lightwood manor. But it's up to you. I can go with you to meet Maia now, and Isabelle and Jace can go home with the security escort."

Isabelle shot me a look that suggested just how unhappy she'd be if I chose option two. I bit back a smile. I knew Simon well enough to know he'd happily drop his chance at the hot girl for me. But, I could also tell which option he'd greatly prefer. I avoided looking at Jace. I didn't want to know what his opinion on the whole thing was.

"Yeah sure. Going to back to the Institute sounds nice," I finally relented. Isabelle flashed me a smile.

"Great! I'll call you a car now." She whipped out her phone and excused herself from the table. Jace mentioned something about getting the check and slipped away as well. When they were both gone, Simon turned to me.

"Is that what you really want, Clary? Because I'm fine either way," Simon insisted. I smiled at his sincerity. And when I heard his stomach growl, my smile increased. Simon would do anything for me, and sometimes I felt like I didn't deserve such devotion.

"It's fine, Simon. Really it is." He shot me a huge smile.

"Isabelle is just incredible," he said. I suppressed a look of confusion as I glanced at the girl with the plan.

"She certainly is something," I said dryly. Before Simon could write Isabelle a sonnet, I took out my phone to text Maia.

 _Hey sorry abt ditching at the club. will discuss later!_

Her reply was almost immediate.

 _np. I met someone so its all good. later I want deets!_

I was glad I didn't ruin her night. I felt bad for inviting her to come out and then not going. But luckily, it seemed she was fine. I would have to ask her about this new guy when we got a chance to really catch up. Isabelle returned saying the car was on its way. She then proceeded to ask for menus for her and Simon. Suddenly, I felt like I was intruding.

"I'm just going to wait outside," I said, excusing myself. Isabelle sent me an actual smile, happy I was picking up on her not-so-subtle hints. After polite goodbyes, Simon made me promise to text him as soon as I got home. When I got outside, I realized how cold I was. My flannel was still in Simon's car. I thought about going back inside and asking to get it. But when I glanced at their laughing forms, I decided I'd brave the cold for a few minutes instead of interrupting their date.

"You got outta there too?" Jace asked, coming to stand beside me. He came from the alley as he put his phone in his pocket. A smile formed because of his presence. I quickly checked my emotions.

"Oh yeah. They clearly wanted to be alone," I said. I folded my arms across my chest.

"Yeah, Isabelle is as subtle as a gun," he said. I snorted. Jace glanced at me. "Are you cold?" Before it could respond, he took off his blazer and put it around my shoulders.

"Thanks," I said, wrapping it around me. I stopped myself from inhaling the delicious scent. That would look weird.

"So is your friend going to be okay?" he asked.

I nodded, replaying what she'd said to me.

"That's good," he said.

The streets around us were busy with people. They all hurried like was only made up of one destination to the next. We stood there in silence. I wasn't sure where the sudden descending awkwardness came from. Maybe it was the end-of-the-night syndrome when both people wonder what's going to happen next. Although we knew what was going to happen: a security team would take us to the Institute and we'd go our separate ways. I couldn't imagine the night going any other way. I wasn't even sure if tonight mattered to our overall relationship. Would tomorrow be another day where I don't see Jace? Would all our future conversations revolve around the case? A heaviness settled in my stomach like sand.

The car pulled up to the curb. It was sleek and black, the kind you'd expect to find government officials in, not two teenagers. A beefcake in a suit came out. I recognized him from the Institute, as did Jace. He opened the doors for us. We got into the backseat of the car, sliding on butterscotch leather seats. The car was warm, which I was grateful for. I kept the jacket though, not wanting to give up this piece of Jace. The car was partitioned from the front seat and the back seats, so Jace and I were allowed some privacy. The small enclose only seemed to heighten the tension coursing between us.

"Do you believe? In karma, that is?" I asked, swallowing. "I never asked you."

I don't know where the question came from. I just couldn't shake the memory of the desperation in his eyes, the window to his tortured soul. Jace let out a breath.

"Sometimes," he said. He paused for a long time, and I didn't think he was going to follow up on that until he said, "And then I have nights like tonight where I can't imagine what I did to deserve such happiness."

I drew a sharp inhale of breath. His words shocked me, but also made me deliriously giddy. Jace looked at me. He placed a loose curl behind my ear, fingers lingering on my cheek. I leaned into his touch, amazed by what he could elicit from me. There was hardly any space between us, and yet I wanted to be closer.

"If I believed in karma, then you wouldn't be sitting here next to me," he said. He studied my face like he was committing it to memory, like at any moment I would disappear completely and he'd lose something valuable. His gaze caught at my lips. I couldn't help gliding my tongue across them. His eyes darkened. Cupping my cheek, he tilted my head back and pressed his lips to mine.

It was soft, a sweet sweep across my lips, but I felt it down to my core. The gentleness was laced with restraint. My body responded immediately, shivers of pleasure racing through me. My hands found my way to his hair, and I slid my fingers through, admiring the silkiness. The kiss deepened, turning from cautious and tender to unbridled and wild. My thoughts became clouded—I couldn't think of anything other than his hands leaving a trail of fire on my body and his lips electrifying my desire. I straddled him, which earned a groan from him. His arms wrapped tightly around me, pulling me impossibly closer. His hands trailed underneath the jacket and fisted in my dress, like given the opportunity he'd rip it right off. And in my lust-filled haze, I considered it.

I didn't even notice we had reached our destination, until I heard a rapt on the window. Jace and I broke a part. We stared at each other, pupils dilated with desire. His lips were swollen and his hair stood up in certain areas where my hands raked through them. I'm sure I didn't look much different. I got off of him, repositioning my dress, which had found its way up my thighs.

"I'm going to kill that driver," Jace muttered, as the door swung open revealing our driver. I giggled and slid across the street. Jace helped me out of the car, which was much appreciated considering my knees were wobbly from our intense make out.

We walked up to the front door. My mind was spinning with questions. What did that kiss mean? Where exactly did we stand? Where we going to continue? The last question immediately soured my cloud nine mood. As much as I wanted to feel his soft lips against me, I knew where it could possibly lead. And I still stood firm on my stance on virginity, even if Jace's body made me want to throw out the old oath and make a new, dirtier one.

"Um I thought you didn't use the front door?" I asked, remembering our previous adventure up the trellis of hell.

Jace pulled out keys and unlocked the front door.

"Maryse is in D.C. on business," he said, with a shrug. We walked inside. The foyer was dimly lit. The house seemed still as our footsteps echoed across the marbled floor. We both stopped in front of the grand staircase, hovering awkwardly.

"Um, is Alec here?" I asked. I wondered if his time with Magnus went well, and if Jace was privy to that information. Jace looked around the room, not meeting my eyes.

"I don't think so. He texted me saying he was studying late."

I nodded. I bet he'd be having a lot more late "study" nights.

"So..." I started, unable to think of any more people to ask about their current whereabouts. I glanced at Jace. We stared at each other for a nanosecond before practically jumping each other. His lips were back on mine, his hands cupping my face. He pushed me up against the wall. His hands trailed down my overheated body tortuously slow before gripping my hips tightly. He lifted me up as I wrapped my legs around him, excited about the new form of contact. I explored his mouth, savoring the sweet taste that was his own. My fingers dug into his shoulders, as I got lost in the kiss.

We pulled back both panting. Jace's kissed the corner of my mouth and trailed to my neck. I let out a breathy moan as he nipped the sensitive spot above my collarbone. The little persistent voice in my head nudged me that this was going too far. But the part of my brain that controlled my desire and passion effectively shut that up.

Jace's lips were back to mine. I nibbled on his bottom lip, sucking slightly. He moaned into my mouth, and the sound made my toes curl. Jace's hands found new places to explore on my body, eliciting exciting gasps from me.

"Do you want to go back to my room?" Jace asked in a heady whisper.

I squeezed my eyes closed. Hell yes, I wanted to. My body was literally screaming for that. But sadly, the voice I originally shushed was now back and louder than ever.

"We probably shouldn't," I said, with a regretful sigh. Jace nodded, respecting my decision. He put me down gently, his hands lingering around my waste. I felt the need to explain myself—although I didn't know where the urge came from. Most guys I made out with in the past, I didn't bother giving them an explanation when I put the brakes on the whole getting-it-on thing. "It's just that... well, I'm a virgin."

My face felt too warm. But I wasn't sure if that was product of our previous activities or because I was admitting to Jace about my hymen still being intact. Jace couldn't hide the surprise that flitted across his face. I sighed. Even though I knew what people thought of me given my line of work, I would've preferred fewer assumptions.

"Oh no problem," he said, placing his hands in his pocket. I couldn't help but glancing at his pants. There clearly was a problem, but he was being nice about it. "Want to go to my room anyway—not for anything sexual. We could watch a movie or something?"

Relief settled in my stomach. A teeny part of me wondered if he was only interested in me for sex. Given the kind of men I'm usually around (save for Simon and Luke) my paranoia wasn't too far-fetched. And apparently, Jace wanted to keep this night going like I did.

"Yeah that sounds good actually," I said. "I'm just going to get changed." I motioned to my outfit. He nodded and we headed up the stairs, separating when we got to the top.

I walked to my room, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and pent-up desire. My hands were trembling as we I opened the door to my room and looked for some pajamas. I didn't know how to sort out my jumbled feelings. Jace made me _feel_ things. More than just unbridled passion—although to be fair, most guys before him couldn't get me worked up like Jace could with just one touch. But it was more than that. I wanted to be around him, wanted to hear him talk, wanted to be close to him, to touch him (both platonically and not). The mixture of wanting him and wanting to be _with_ him was an odd combination.

I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was wild and my eyes dilated. A slight blush highlighted my freckles. Ignoring the almost giddy look on my face, I washed off my makeup and brushed my teeth, hoping the garlic hadn't been strong enough for Jace to notice.

After cleaning off, I changed into a loose "The Clash" t-shirt that was big enough to be nightgown. Normally, I preferred silky nighties, but I didn't want to torture Jace. Well, I did. But I decided not to push it tonight. I slipped some socks up my thighs to keep my feet warm and padded over to his room. I knocked twice.

He yelled for me to come in. I walked into the room, taking note of everything. Last time I was in his room I was such a mess that I didn't get to properly look around. His room wasn't anything like mine. It wasn't stuffy and didn't feel like it came out of a BBC drama. His room had sort of a postmodern decor to it—monochrome colors with slick furniture. Other than the bookcase full of books and DVDs and the desk strewn with papers that clearly signified a personal touch, the room looked unlived in.

I took a seat on Jace's bed, feeling the black duvet under my fingers. Just then, Jace walked out of the en-suite bathroom. He wore nothing but pajama bottoms that seemed almost indecent how low-hung they wore. My eyes raked over his muscular chest. I swallowed as my eyes dipped lower, studying the indents that sat right above his pajama bottoms. It looked like someone had molded him and pressed their fingers into his lower abdomen. When I met his eyes, they were as dark as they were in the foyer. I was sure mine were the same. I hastily tore my eyes from what should not have been a college boy's body but rather some male fitness model's.

He grabbed a shirt from his dresser and pulled it over, not before I could see the smirk that settled on his face.

"Cute socks," he said, nudging me as he moved towards the bookcase. I glanced at the little paintbrush insignia stamped all over the socks.

"I thought so," I replied.

"So what movie do you want to watch?" he asked.

"What movies do you have?"

"All kinds. Not to mention the infinite number the internet can provide," he said, with a shrug.

I fake-gasped.

"But, Jace. Those are illegal. I can't believe I'm in bed with a pirate!"

Jace responded with a smirk.

"Not yet you are."

I spread out on his bed—throwing my arms out.

"This is your bed, is it not?"

I almost didn't see him move, that's how fast he was. He jumped, hovering over me. The bottom-halves of our body connected, while he propped up his top half with his elbows. I let out a startled gasp. My heart raced due to our proximity.

"There," he said. "Now you're in bed with a pirate."

Our banter suddenly fell away. His golden eyes captured mine. The desire coursed through us, so potent that I could feel the heat pooling between us. Jace cleared his throat and rolled off me. I took a much-needed breath because I knew that if I had inhaled his scent it would've been all over for me. He got up and helped me sit up.

"So, um movie?" he asked, clearing his throat.

"Yeah, yeah. Anything is fine," I said, trying to form a coherent sentence.

He turned on some movie on Netflix. We both sat at the end of the bed, clearly trying to keep distance between us. I don't think either of us were even paying attention to the actors on the screen. I kept counting my breaths, hoping that I wasn't panting. I wasn't even sure if Jace was breathing or even moving—that's how focused I was on pretending to watch the movie.

He seemed to relax first, lying on his side. But in doing so, he started watching me instead of the movie. Finally, I glanced at him.

"What?"

"Nothing." He paused. "Just out of curiosity. Why are you still a virgin? Is it like a religious thing?" His tone was pure interest. There was no laced judgment or condemnation. I matched his position, finding it was more comfortable than sitting cross-legged facing the movie. When I didn't respond right away, Jace said, "I don't mean to pry. You don't have to tell me."

"No, it's fine," I said, waving away his insecurity. "I know in my line of work it's sort of expected that I—"

"It shouldn't be expected of you," he said fervently, with a clench of his jaw.

"It's not like I ever had to _do_ anything for my job," I said quickly. "I just meant that most people assume I've had...that I'm not a—yeah. But anyway, it's kinda weird but, like in my industrysex is used as a weapon, a means of power. And I don't know, I just always held out hope that sex could be an act of love and vulnerability between two people. Like it's not just about the act itself, but the transcendence, the connection between them, the love shared." Jace didn't say anything; he just stared at me. "I mean, I know it's stupid," I rushed to say.

"No," Jace interrupted. "It's not stupid," he added, more softly.

I shrugged, unsure how to follow up. We both went back to pretending to watch the movie, acutely aware of each other's presence.

"I haven't been back to hospital since my parents died," Jace said quietly. I almost didn't hear him. That might have been his intention. I turned back towards him. "They died because of a car crash. You'd think I'd be more scared of cars," he added with a humorless laugh.

I found his hand and entwined mine with his. I didn't know if I would say the right thing, so I held on to his hand, hoping for some physical reassurance.

"My father died during surgery. But my mom—" His voice broke. He paused for a second. "She, um, seemed to be doing okay after surgery. I wasn't told my father was gone. She just said his surgery was taking longer. And then I sat on the hospital bed with her coloring, while she stroked my hair and told me stories."

"What were the stories about?" I asked, hoping my question wasn't intrusive. I just wanted to be with him in this painful moment so he didn't feel so alone.

"My father mostly. She wanted to remind me how much he loved me. She had to face her husband's death all by herself," he said. He didn't look at me, preferring to watch the TV in front of us.

"She had you," I said softly, squeezing his hand. I wasn't even sure if the words resonated with him.

"She died during the night—a seizure from surgery complications... I remember not understanding why she wouldn't wake up."

My heart broke into a million pieces. Tears rose to my eyes even though it wasn't my pain that needed release. Jace finally looked at me. He swallowed, trying to get rid of the tears building up in his own eyes.

"I broke my finger last summer playing football, but I refused to go to the hospital." Letting go of my hand, he showed me his ring finger. It was misshapen and slightly thicker than the rest of his slender fingers. A bulbous area of skin and bone was the bend above his knuckle. I stroked his hand softly. "I can't go back," he said, a harsh edge coming over his tone. "Even though I should've when..." he trailed off, grasping my hand firmly within his own. I knew he wasn't talking about the broken finger anymore. "I'm a coward," he said quietly.

"You're not," I said fiercely. Jace had literally attacked an armed man when he was trying to kill me. He ran alone through Central Park to make sure I was safe. He survived losing both of his parents and moving to an unfamiliar home. I was sure there were more examples that I just didn't know of. He had proved time and time again that he was good person. Why he believed otherwise was a mystery to me. "You are so much greater than you believe."

Jace just stared at me, awestruck by what I said. I could tell he didn't believe it, but he was surprised by my steadfast devotion. He was convinced that he was unredeemable. I knew the feeling. My father had made sure that I felt worthless. He wanted me to be nothing more than a hollow shell. Maybe that's why I hated seeing the same feelings on Jace's face.

Jace pulled me to him, snuggling me to his side. I was pressed to his side. I could feel his hot skin, his racing heart. It brought me comfort. I had been close to guys before. Hell, I was really close to Jace several times this night. But this? This was different. This closeness wasn't a product of lust or desperation where the person next to you was the excuse for your release. This was raw. It was comfort and vulnerability. It was like hugging Luke or Simon, but with a lacing of desire that I obviously didn't feel with the former.

We watched the movie for a while, bodies entwined. It felt so natural to be connected like this. At the same time, I was painfully aware of every inch of Jace's body. When he breathed in, his arm brushed against my breast, sending spikes of electricity through my body. I felt when his leg twitched. I felt the smallest of shudders that ran through him. When his eyes met mine, I was already familiar with the dark, lusty haze.

And I was scared. Scared of what I wanted. Scared of my confusion. Scared of the fact that someone was trying to kill me and Jace. Scared that they might actually succeed. And if that was the case, I'd be majorly pissed that I'd die a virgin.

"Do you think the cops are going to catch who's ever after us?" I asked. My question had the effect on the mood that I wanted. Jace's eyes cleared and some of the hot tension between us evaporated. But we were still too close and not close enough. We were still connected. And my question was another reminder of how much we were in this together.

"New York's finest is called that for a reason," Jace said with a light laugh. But, the humor didn't reach his eyes. "I mean they'll figure out everything. They have to." He didn't sound so sure anymore. But something about his sentence struck me. He was almost worried they'd find something.

"Jace, if you're hiding anything..." I started to say. I was being hypocritical. I was hiding the most probable reason someone tried to kill us. Granted, Luke and Simon knew my story. "If you know anything that could help the cops, then you should tell them."

Jace looked away. And suddenly, my suspicions were reaffirmed. I scooted away, creating some much needed space between us. Hurt flashed across his face.

"You're not in danger," he said as if he was trying to argue in a debate that I was unprepared for.

"Oh well then the knife-wielding madman must have made a mistake then," I commented dryly. Jace chuckled.

"Maybe he wasn't after either of us. Maybe it's all some big misunderstanding."

"Yeah and the bugs they found in my apartment were completely unrelated," I added wistfully.

"Maybe you have a pervy landlord," Jace suggested. I let out a dry laugh and then wrinkled my nose.

"I don't know which option is worse," I said.

"But like I said, maybe you being there was a mistake."

I glanced at Jace, surprised that he was bringing this up again. Did Jace just have a plethora of enemies? I asked him this.

"Well when I'm twenty-one I'll be worth half a billion and hotel shares of a prominent business hotel. It doesn't take a great leap of the imagination that there might be a few people who'd rather see me dead."

I stared at him, trying not to let hope bubble within me. It was selfish of me. But I was elated by the prospects that it wasn't my father who was stalking me. But that still meant someone wanted Jace dead, so I couldn't celebrate too much.

"Why would people care about your hotel shares?" I asked. I knew people would kill over much less than a half billion dollars. Humanity could be so fucked up that they'd kill each other over a peanut. But other than when you're playing monopoly, I didn't know why owning a hotel was such a big deal.

"Idris has property in all the major cities throughout the world. The most elite clients stay there. There are so many possibilities and connections that could be exploited."

I shivered at his tone. I never thought of Idris as a potential bad guys' headquarters.

"Do you want to take over?" I asked. I remembered how he was going to a prominent liberal arts school instead of one that would make him savvy in the ways of hotel-owning.

"I don't have a choice," he said bitterly. "Once I'm twenty-one, the shackles come on. I'll be turned into a corporate goon, caring only about profits and expansions. I hate the thought." Jace's jaw clenched. He looked like he was stuck in a cage, but he'd accepted his fate.

I felt my heart break again. When I was with stuck in that abusive household, I had known what it was like to look into your bleak future. There is nothing worse than knowing you can't do anything to stop what's coming.

"What would you rather do, if you didn't have to take over your father's business?" I asked.

An almost wistful look settled over Jace's face.

"I would want to play piano," he said, a little sheepishly. A smile spread across my face before I could stop it. I didn't know what it was about guys who could play instruments, but I was immediately more attracted to Jace (which I didn't even think was possible). I just liked that we shared in the arts. We both knew and took solace in creation, turning our feelings into something tangible. "I was supposed to go to Harvard to study business. My whole life was laid out in front of me—a little gift from beyond the grave from my pops. But I managed to convince Maryse and Hodge to let me go to MII. Well not convince so much as tell them I declined Harvard and was staying in New York."

I laughed. This was the Jace I knew. The one who forged his own path, who didn't mind rubbing people the wrong way because ultimately he got what he wanted.

"That was a bold move," I said.

Jace smirked. "I enjoyed the look on their faces more than I should've."

"So then you study music at MII?"

"I'm doubling in music and business," Jace explained. "The deal only worked if I also got a degree in business. It's dreadfully boring, but at least I get to spend half my time doing something I love."

"How does your frat fit into it?" I said. I found it hard to connect the Jace in front of me—sweet, caring, creator of music—to the one who partied constantly with the human forms of trash. Jace sighed.

"I'm a legacy. My dad was in the same frat at Harvard. And since my business life will revolve around those guys, it's good to get to know them now." He glanced at me. "I'm really not like them. I'd much rather be playing the piano than doing a keg stand."

I raised my eyebrows at him, calling his bluff. He laughed in response.

"Okay, sometimes I prefer the keg stand. God, I can't even pretend to be a good person around you."

"You're not so bad," I said, nudging him with my elbow.

"You're not so bad yourself," he said with a goofy smile. Our conversation continued light and easy while the movie played in the background unwatched. He told me about the music he was working on. I told him about my art. He asked to see more of my pieces. I asked to listen to his music. The conversation flowed so well, and both of us were licking up the information about the other and asking more, fervent to get to know one another.

I found myself inching closer and closer to Jace until our bodies were pressed together again. I couldn't' help it. Everything he said, every facial expression he made, every time he inhaled and I could see a lick of his midriff—I just wanted to be near him. And he felt the same way. Every now and then he'd reach out and play with a strand of hair or trace the lines on my palm. He was respectful as to where he touched me, but he couldn't seem to keep his hands off of me.

My eyes began to feel heavy at some point. Our conversation slowed, responses becoming more and more infrequent. Jace's hands stilled, and his breathing evened. Mine must have too because the last thing I remembered before falling asleep was that I wondered if Jace's music was as lovely as him.

He told me that I would find out.

 **So what does everyone think? Comment about any aspect of the story (but especially about the pacing of Jace and Clary's relationship) or even Shadowhunters the show. I love me some fandom discourse.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Because I've made you all wait so long (again) this is a nice long chapter to enjoy! I hope all the fans of this story haven't given up on it because I certainly have not! So please enjoy! And since you're all so lovely, I want to incorporate some sort of bonus chapter. Let me know your ideas!**

 **Chapter 18**

I woke up a bit confused. Because it was the first time in several months that I didn't wake up terrified with a scream lodged in my throat. Likewise, I was in an unfamiliar bed. The memories from last night came flooding back.

Laughter. Music. Jace.

Jace.

I sat up surprised. I was alone in his bed. A blanket had been laid across me although I couldn't remember getting one before falling asleep. I looked around the room, rubbing my eyes. I felt rested—more than I have in months. Jace's bathroom door was shut, and I could hear the shower running.

A feeling of embarrassment ran through me like a shudder. I couldn't believe I fell asleep in his bed. What must he have been thinking? I was relieved Jace was in the bathroom. It gave me the opportunity to slip away unnoticed.

I ran quickly from his room, hoping he wouldn't catch me escaping. I couldn't face him. Not now. I wasn't ready to face the moment—the moment that would determine what _this_ was between Jace and me. And so I did what I did best: I ran.

I tried to push the thoughts of Jace away, but he was everywhere. He surrounded me: his scent on my clothes, his laughter in my ears, his smile in my memory. It was all so overwhelming. The artist in my ached to express this in some way, find some relief from my feelings. And luckily I had class in an hour. Afterwards, I'd have time alone in the studio to sort out my emotions on canvas.

I took a hot shower. A strange emptiness came over me, as the smell of strawberry soap overpowered Jace's scent. I threw on some clothes and slathered on a bit of makeup. There was a natural blush that settled above the normal pallor of my skin. My eyes were brighter than normal and the purple shadows I'd grown accustom to seeing were barely noticeable. I looked...happy, which didn't at all reflect the feeling of uneasiness swelling within.

If I learned anything from my life it was that happiness didn't last. There was always something lurking in the shadows, waiting for the ultimate moment of vulnerability, before it showed itself.

I headed downstairs to the kitchen. I needed to find Hodge so that I could find the security team that was supposed to escort me to school. When I walked in, Alec was sitting at the island drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. I was unsure of where I stood with Alec. But when he shot me a tentative smile, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"How was your night?" I asked casually, restraining myself from ripping into his privacy like an OK magazine. I grabbed an apple from the counter with slight disappointment. I had to remember to grab a box of pop-tarts from the store so I could have a balanced breakfast.

"Oh yeah it was good," Alec said, choking slightly on his coffee. He didn't add anything else, clearly drawing the line of our friendship and what I'd be privy to.

At that moment Jace entered the kitchen. He stopped when he saw me. I was drawn to him immediately and had to stop myself from walking toward him. His hair was still damp from the shower. His light blue shirt pressed fit snuggly against his skin. His jeans hung sinfully low, hinting at the tantalizing glimpse of his midriff to come. When my gaze made its way to his face, I could tell he was hungrily taking me in as I was him.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," I responded, rather unimaginatively.

Alec took in the moment, sipped his coffee, and then went back to reading the newspaper.

Jace came up to me. He ran a hand through his hair and didn't look at me as he said in a low voice, "So you left this morning?"

I felt a blush run over my cheeks. I wasn't ready to have this moment with him. I had to stall.

"I just had class early this morning, so I had to get ready and stuff," I responded, awkwardly gesturing to myself.

"Oh okay," he said, nodding and pushing his hands in his pockets. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed the pitcher of orange juice. I turned away ready to go find Hodge. Jace stopped me saying, "Alec and I can give you a ride to class, if you want." He glanced at Alec, who stopped pretending to be interested in the newspaper and nodded.

"Oh thanks," I said, unsure of what to do with myself now that I wasn't leaving the kitchen.

Just then, Isabelle strolled through the kitchen. Her usually pin-straight hair was in a messy bun. Her face was clear of makeup, and she wore an oversized dress shirt. I took a second glance at the dress shirt. Where had I seen that before...

Before I could make any sort of connection, another person ran into the kitchen. He was shirtless, glasses falling down the tip of his nose.

"Izzy, I need to get to work..."

The room stopped. I felt like there wasn't any oxygen left.

Simon stopped talking when he realized he had an audience. I wasn't sure who felt more uncomfortable. Jace stared, mouth and refrigerator door left wide open. Alec was in the middle of taking a sip of coffee that couldn't reach his lips. Isabelle was the only one blissfully unaware of the freeze that seemed to take a hold of the room. She flitted by, wearing the shirt I once picked out for Simon at J. Crew. She grabbed two mugs and the pot of coffee. I wasn't even able to register that I wouldn't be allotted a cup of joe.

"Hey, Clary," Simon said, weakly. I couldn't even manage a 'hello.' All I could do is stare at the surprisingly muscular chest of Simon. I mean I knew he worked out; he was a cop in New York City, for Christ's sake. He needed to be fit. But I never expected the abs that went along with it. Freckles dotted his chest reminding me of constellations. I wasn't sure why his tone body was the thing I was focusing on. There were more pertinent things like the fact that he clearly spent the night with Isabelle.

"Here you go, babe," Isabelle said handing him the extra cup of coffee.

 _Babe_.

Last night they couldn't even approach each other without the cover of protecting Jace and me. But now they were calling each other pet names and wearing each other's clothes. And they... I couldn't even finish that thought. I felt bile in the back of my throat, unsure of the reasons for my visceral response.

"Clary..." Simon said, looking at me like a deer in headlights. Suddenly, it was just he and I—the rest of the room forgotten. I remembered when all the times we sat next to the river eating overpriced street food swearing that we'd always be there for one another. But I could feel myself losing that like sand slipping through my fingers. "Um, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Actually, she has to get to class," Jace said, coming to my side. He gave me a look, asking for permission to butt in. I was grateful for his interference. I couldn't wrap my head around my feelings, and I certainly couldn't look Simon in the eyes and tell his I was happy for him.

"Yeah, I'm running late," I said, managing to find my voice. I focused on the grey specks in the marble countertops instead of Simon's hurt face.

"Alec," I heard Jace say. Alec got up, and I felt myself led from the room. I avoided Simon's gaze, although I knew he was watching me. I wish I could've been strong enough—strong enough to look him in the eye, strong enough to wish him the best even if that meant he was going to be taken away from me.

I walked out of the room, flanked by the two men I'd never think I'd find comfort in and leaving the one I always counted on. The walk to Alec's car felt like a blur. I was sliding across leather and buckling myself in before I realized I was out of the kitchen. The drive to the MII was surreal. At one point Alec put on the radio, but he didn't bother changing it from the classical music A.M. station. So, the whole way there I got to feel like shit to the tune of Tchaikovsky.

Alec wasted no time getting out of the car when we reached the student's parking lot. I wasn't sure if he was late for class or if he wanted to avoid the drama that seemed to surround me like the plague. Either way, Jace and I were left alone in the car.

Jace turned around. His hair was brighter in the morning light—almost blinding. It reminded me of the hottest part of a flame—the part that hurts the most if you get close to it.

"Clary..."

I got out of the car, slamming the door as I went. I walked away, ignoring the sound of another car door shutting and footsteps following me. Jace caught up with me.

"If you want to talk..."

I felt a flood of irrational anger. I didn't want to talk to Jace. I wanted to talk to my best friend—the one who was currently wearing what I assumed were Isabelle's pink frilly socks because Simon's feet got cold when he slept. But I couldn't have him. And I didn't need some random replacement.

"I'm fine, Jace," I said, twisting around to face him with a practiced smile on my face. He stopped in his tracks, surprise flitting across his face. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to be late for class."

I turned back around, trying to ignore the gutting feeling in my stomach. I was doing what I always did, burying my feelings so I could hopefully be as fine as I was pretending.

"I just thought..." Jace said, running a hand through his hair.

"Thought what?" I asked, with a perky jilt to my voice. I shouldn't have been baiting him. But deep down inside, I wanted him to confirm it was okay to feel what I was feeling.

"You seemed upset in the kitchen," he conceded finally, unsure of my bizarre attitude. I instantly felt guilty. It wasn't him who should be taking the brunt of my mind games.

"Well, I'm fine. I'll see you later," I said, turning away from him. As I walked away, a helpless feeling began to swell within me that I was pushing everyone away and soon I'd be left with no one except my homicidal father. I quickly turned around to apologize to Jace, but he was already walking in the other direction. The helpless feeling grew, and I felt like I was sinking. First Simon, now Jace.

More than anything, I needed my paintbrush and canvas. I'd be feeling whole again in no time.

I strutted off to my art building, fully intending on skipping the lecture and going straight to my studio. As I walked I couldn't get the image of Simon out of my mind. I had to be honest with myself: I was jealous. I wasn't harboring any feelings for Simon. I wasn't jealous that Isabelle and him slept... Well, I wasn't sure the extent of their relationship, but whatever it was, I wasn't jealous of it.

I was jealous of there being another girl in Simon's life. I always knew it'd happen—obviously Simon was a great catch and any girl would be lucky to be with him. And he's dated before—just nothing serious. And he'd _never_ slept with a girl on the first date before. Isabelle was... _new_. She was different. She was the wave rocking the boat that was Simon's life that I'd grown accustomed to being in. And I was worried where that'd lead. Would I lose the only friend I'd ever known? Would he no longer be a significant part of my life? Where would I wind up when the tidal wave that is Isabelle comes crashing into Simon's life?

"Didn't peg you for a girl who'd be worried about begin tardy," a guy said, falling into stride with me. I glanced at the profile. Sebastian walked next to me wearing a fitted black turtleneck and shiny grey trousers. Again I was surprised by the level of sophistication he brought to the college campus. He looked like he belonged in a Forbes magazine or on some sleazy lawyer show.

But more than anything, I wasn't in the mood for playful banter with a guy who I trusted as much as I could throw him.

"Yeah, well I am," I said, hoping my brusque tone would hint for him to leave me alone.

"Hey, whoa, didn't mean to piss you off," he said, lightheartedly. Again, I felt guilty. Curse these men and them trying to me nice to me when I was in a pissy mood. "I just wanted to invite you to a Sigma Chi party tonight."

The emotional turmoil my brain was experiencing didn't register the normal college invite.

"What?" I asked.

"My frat is having a party tonight at the Sigma Chi house. You should come. Plenty of booze and ways to forget whatever is bothering you."

I turned to Sebastian. Something about him bothered me—he was too charismatic, like a salesman who ultimately tried to hide a glaring issue in the product with charm. But I had to admit, the sound of a party was enticing—especially the infamous Sigma Chi parties I've always heard about.

But just as I started entertaining the idea of going, something stopped my train of thought. Why hadn't Jace invited me? Did he not want me at this party? Wouldn't he have told me about it last night?

"Just think about it, Clary," Sebastian said. "I'll text you the details." He backed away, and with a smile, headed off in the other direction.

I shrugged off the encounter. I wasn't about to go to a frat party. I had too many other things to worry about, least of all what I was going to wear to a frat party known for objectifying girls at the front door. Although part of me, the part I wish didn't exist, felt oddly validated by the invitation from a prominent member of the fraternity. I wasn't sure where I stood with Sebastian, but this was the third time he sought me out.

I walked into the studio and felt my phone buzz in my bag.

 _That was fast_ , I thought.

I pulled out my phone to see a text from Simon.

 _Hey can we talk? Im working a night shift tonight but how about we get coffee tomorrow morning at that café we love by the waterfront?_

I hesitated. The immature part of me wanted to say something snippy like "go with your new girl." But, I knew I had to be rational. I typed out a quick reply, hiding the bitterness I felt with practiced civility. With a sigh, I hit send. Then I jammed my earphones into my ears and blasted music that matched my solemn mood. I started working on a new project—trying to understand how I felt with paint.

After about an hour the image was starting to take shape: wings. I had drawn a rough outline of an avenging angel, but I had been focusing on the wings, painting them with bits of grey, turquoise, and ethereal gold. The effect was instant: beauty and pain. It didn't help me sort out my conflicting feelings for Simon, but it did help me relax.

I was washing off one of my brushes when I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. On instinct, I whipped around, brandishing the paintbrush as a weapon. I was ready to jab it into my attacker's throat when I realized I was staring at a very confused-looking Jace.

"Whoa," he said, an easygoing smile replacing his look of concern. He held up his hands in mock surrender showing they were full with two coffee cups.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. I lowered my paintbrush and took out my earphones. Jace handed me the cup of coffee, and I took it graciously. "Thanks," I murmured.

He walked around the studio looking at other students' artwork, taking sips of his coffee. He stopped when he got to mine and studied it intently. I was surprised. There was no way he could've known it was mine. He gestured to it.

"This is amazing. It's an angel?" He tilted his head. "It's somehow happy and sad at the same time."

"How'd you know that was mine," I said, coming to sit on the stool in front of the canvas.

"Are you kidding? It's the only good thing in this studio," he said with a smile.

I laughed, hoping my face wasn't red.

"You're ridiculous," I said in response.

"So, I was wondering if you wanted to do something tonight? We could grab a bite to eat and catch a movie?" Jace asked.

"What about your party tonight?" I blurted out, so surprised I didn't know what else to say.

"What?" Jace looked taken aback for a moment. His earlier confidence from asking me out dwindled slightly.

"Um." I wanted to kick myself. I wished I hadn't even brought it up. "It's nothing. Sebastian just said you guys were having a party tonight. It doesn't matter."

"Wait—Sebastian invited you?" Jace asked. An annoyed look crossed his face.

"Um yeah?" I said, not sure what sore spot I was pressing on.

"Did you want to go?" he asked. His uncertainty seeped out of him stronger than before.

"No—it's not that. I just mentioned it because, uh, I was surprised about before and I just wondered why you didn't bring it up." Oh man, I was babbling. Was I really going to sit here and ask Jace why he didn't want me to come to his frat party? Was I really that desperate and pathetic?

Jace's look of uncertainty quickly dropped from his face, replaced with a smirk.

"Ginger, you wanna go to a frat party? Didn't think it was your scene."

If I wasn't blushing before, I now was.

"No," I proclaimed, rolling my eyes. "That's not—no of course not."

Jace stepped closer, and I could feel my heart pick up in tempo the closer he got to me.

"I would've invited you before that prick could've if I'd heard about it. The frat is always throwing last minute parties, and I'm rarely involved with the planning." He reached out and lightly grabbed my hand. He shot me a genuine smile. "Clary, if you wanna go, we can go."

"No, that's not necessary—" I stopped for a moment and thought about Simon. Last night before Simon and I arrived at the club he mentioned that while I shouldn't stay locked up, I should only consider going places where there were a lot of people. And while I'd love nothing more than to be alone in a dark, empty movie theater with Jace, I knew it'd be better we were at a frat house full of college students. "Actually, yeah that might be better," I said, explaining my reasons.

Jace nodded.

"I keep forgetting that we're potentially being hunted by deranged lunatics."

I laughed without humor.

"I wish I could forget."

Jace leaned in closer, and I felt my heart stop. He placed a chaste kiss on my forehead.

"Tonight I'll help you forget," he murmured against my burning skin. He backed away before I could even think about grabbing him by his snug t-shirt and kissing the shit out of him. He could clearly see the effect he had on me, evident by the smirk plastered on his face. "Meet you in the foyer at 9?"

"Sure," I managed to say.

"See you then, Ginger," he said, strolling out of the art studio like he'd goddamned orchestrated the entire turn of events.

Feeling a smile creep its way up my face, I turned back to my painting. I got to work on the face of the angel, deciding to take a break from painting the wings. After about forty-five minutes I gave up because all I could draw was the face of the man who brought a smile to my face. I sighed in frustration. I'd drawn thousands of faces in the past, and yet my hands couldn't create anything other than Jace's perfectly chiseled one.

It shouldn't have bothered me as much as it did. But even in my next class, I couldn't concentrate and instead doodled quick sketches of faces, trying purposely to exaggerate features so it wouldn't turn out like Jace. And yet, every sketch had a glaring resemblance to him. Exaggerated nose—still Jace. Lack of cheekbones—somehow still Jace.

I finally gave up in my Painting with Watercolors class at the end of the day. When I finally walked out of the class, frustrated and yet more excited for the upcoming night, I realized I didn't have a ride home. I had Jace's number—we exchanged numbers the night before—but I knew for sure that he was in class at the moment. I thought about calling Alec, but needing to rely on someone just reminded me how helpless I really was. I needed my own freedom—I couldn't be hindered by having to ask others for favors.

Suddenly, I remembered that the Lightwoods were supposed to provide me with my own security detail and car service. Hodge had told me that the first day I was there, and I had mistakenly thought Alec was my driver.

I decided I'd make my way back to the Institute on my own and then I'd talk to Hodge about getting my personal car service. I got on the bus like I used to before everything happened. It was almost therapeutic—as therapeutic as a public bus can be. The overwhelming muggy smell of the bus made me immediately miss the cool interior of Alec's car. But at least I was independent.

It took me longer to get to the Institute since I was unfamiliar with the bus routes. But when I got there, I saw two dark vans in front of the mansion. When I walked inside, there were men in black suits roaming around the Institute, picking things up and looking into vents and lamps. Before I could ask them what they were doing, Hodge walked into the foyer.

"Ah, Clarissa. I haven't seen you in a few days. I assume you've been well." Hodge smiled at me.

"Yeah I've been fine—what are these people here for," I asked, watching on of the men poking around in an electrical socket.

"Oh don't worry about them, Clarissa. They're just searching for any listening devices. Now is there something I can help you with?" Hodge said.

"Wait—they're not with the police," I said, rather obviously. They were all wearing nicely fitted uniform suits that showed they were paid way more than a policeman's salary.

"Ah... no they're not. Don't worry about it, my dear."

"But shouldn't Detective Garroway be here? I mean this is important to our case?" I said, confused and a little uneasy about this seemingly clandestine operation.

Hodge's face became pinched like he was annoyed about my persistent questions.

"I wanted professionals to handle this delicate case," he explained. "I know it's difficult for you to understand, but this is for the best. Now really, dear, I must be on my way."

He walked away before I could ask him about the car service. For an old man, he sure could book it. But I wasn't too concerned about that at the moment. I quickly fished out my cell phone and dialed Luke's number.

"Hey, Clary. Is everything okay," Luke asked. His gentle voice immediately put me at ease. I thought back to my childhood when I would refuse to go to bed until Luke red me a bedtime story. He used to do the best voices.

"Hey," I said in low tones. "So, Hodge has his own security team sweeping the Institute for bugs. Did you know about that?"

"What? No, that wasn't authorized by me. This is problematic..." he trailed off.

"Why's that?" I asked, my anxiety quickening.

"Well... I really shouldn't speculate," he said, pausing.

I rolled my eyes. I didn't need him keeping things from me because he's trying to protect me.

"Luke, just tell me what's going on," I said.

"Well, Hodge setting this up on his own is certainly unexpected and unwelcome. It definitely tampers with the investigation. If he found something or didn't find something...well I can't say I'd trust those results. I'll head over there tomorrow and hopefully get some answers from him."

"Why would Hodge be trying to undermine the investigation?" I asked, more confused.

"Clary, he's Jace's lawyer. He's looking out for his best interests."

"So, he would lie in order to make Jace look like he's not a part of this?" I said, the one-sided truth dawning over me. I didn't like that the odds were stacked against me and that someone has been purposely arranging them that way.

"Clary, honestly I'm not sure. But I'd be bad detective if I didn't at least consider the possibility. It wouldn't be the first time Hodge has been difficult..."

"What do you mean?"

I heard a sigh of resignation on the other end of the line.

"When Jace turns twenty-one he inherits this multi-billion hotel corporation. And I wanted to understand the details of this inheritance, but Hodge hasn't been exactly forthcoming with that information."

"Wait if that's all you need I can just talk to Jace and—"

"Clary, I don't think that's wise," Luke said interrupting me.

"Why?"

"I would hesitate to trust these people," he said slowly. "They're looking out for number one."

"Yeah but Jace..." I said slowly, not sure why I was coming to his defense. I scratched that line of thought. "You told me I should stay with these people." I sat down on the steps. The walls felt like they were closing in.

"I'm sorry, Clary. I didn't mean to upset you. I do believe the Lightwood Manor is the safest place for you at the moment. However, I would still use caution when it comes to trusting any member of that family."

We hung up after that. But, I couldn't sit up. My thoughts and fears were anchors holding me to the spot on the cherry wood steps. I thought back to Jace—us dancing like we were the only two people in the club, us laughing over gooey pizza, us laying in his bed sharing secrets about ourselves.

How well did I really know Jace? He'd tried to set me up before to turn on Magnus. Was he really looking out for his own interests? Was this all some complicated plan to get me to trust him? Every secret, look, touch? My stomach turned over.

I took a deep breath. I couldn't keep being the victim. I needed to take this case in my own hands. I could figure out if Jace was playing the long con or not. And while I was doing that I could get the information Luke needed information about his inheritance.

With a newfound resolve, I headed up the grand staircase and to the room I no longer considered my own. I blasted my favorite stripper music and began primping. I opened my closet and saw the sad variety of clothes I brought with me from my apartment. I considered heading over to my apartment and getting some better outfits, but I realized it'd be futile. I really didn't have an extensive collection of partying clothes. All of the cute clothes I owned were lacy and didn't cover my ass.

I glanced at my phone. It was already seven o'clock. I was supposed to meet Jace in two hours, which definitely wasn't enough time to go out and shop. I sighed and started pulling ensembles out of the closet. Finally, I settled on pulling a pair of ripped skinny jeans over a pair of fishnets and a crop top. To complete the look I added a smoky eye, teased my hair, and threw on a pair of spikey stilettos. When I looked in the mirror, I could've laughed. I looked like I was heading to a Kanye show more than a frat party.

I headed back down stairs to the kitchen to find the cook. The recent conversation with Luke made me wary about staying in the Institute, but I won't deny that it had its perks. For starters, during lunch and dinner I could request any meal I was craving. I met up with the chef and requested a burger. Since I had time to waste, I decided to snoop around the Institute. I wasn't sure exactly what I was looking for, but I knew from Scooby Doo that sleuthing usually started with wondering around.

But I had a destination in mind. I headed to the library—Hodge's study. His dodgy behavior and resistance to helping Luke made him suspect numero uno in my mind. The double doors to the library were cracked. After glancing in to make sure nobody was around, I snuck in. The room was dark, but I didn't dare turn on a light. Instead, I used my phone's flashlight to light my way. I went over to the large desk. It was relatively tidy, except for a few leather binders full of legal papers. I flipped through them, not sure if they bore any relevance to my case. Unfortunately, the thing they never went over in detail in those detective cartoons was how to tell if something was a clue or not.

I checked the drawers in the desk, stopping when I couldn't open one. It was locked. And that certainly seemed suspicious. I searched my hair for a bobby pin. I had a lot of experience picking locks from when I had to sneak in and out of my house. My father didn't want me to have a key in order to prevent me from leaving. So I had to improvise.

I played with the lock for about five minutes before I heard the resounding click. Slowly, I opened the drawer. There were more legal papers. I scanned them quickly, hoping to find some sort of clue. When I saw Jace's name, I knew it had to be important.

"Clarissa? What are you doing in here?"

My heart jumped in my throat as I jumped up, quickly shutting the door. Hodge stood silhouetted in the doorframe. I couldn't see the expression on his face, but I was sure mine looked wild and crazed.

"Oh um, I came in here looking for a book and I, uh, dropped an earing. I was checking under your—this desk. And um, I found it." I knew better than to stay around and wait for Hodge's response. I quickly hurried to make my way out of the library. Hodge moved out of my way, but called after me before I could make my exit.

"The funniest thing happened, Clarissa," Hodge said. "I got a call from a very angry Detective Garroway who insinuated that I was tampering with the investigation. Somehow he got tipped off that I chose to use a professional security team over New York's finest."

Guilt flared in my stomach. I hated Hodge's tone—how he feigned not knowing while insinuating he knew exactly what was happening. I knew better than to admit or deny anything, so I stayed silent.

"One should remember not to bite the hand feeds them."

Before Hodge could drop anymore vaguely threatening idioms, I bolted down the hallway. Later I would need to sneak back into the library and steal the file I didn't manage to grab. I headed back into the kitchen to get my dinner. After thanking the chef, I headed toward the conservatory Jace showed me. As I entered the room, I felt my breath catch just like the first time. I felt suspended in time as if the beauty of this place would be eternal.

A shuffling in the bushes made me almost drop my plate of food. Isabelle appeared, wearing gardening gloves and carrying a spray bottle. She looked completely out of place considering she was also wearing pearl-studded Miu Mius and a tight skirt. I stared at the heals in envy for a moment until Isabelle called my attention.

"Oh hi, Clary." She looked uncomfortable. And for once, we had something in common. "I just come up here to water the plants. You can't always trust the help to do it correctly," she added with a roll of her eyes. She stroked the leaf in front of her. If I wasn't mistaken, she looked peaceful here. I remembered how Jace told me that Isabelle practically transformed this place into the plant menagerie it was. She was dedicated; I'd give her that.

"I was going to eat up here, but never mind..."

"Oh no! I'm just about to leave anyway. Can't show these guys too much love, or they'll drown. Funny, huh?" she said, although I wasn't even sure if she was talking to me at this point. She started to collect her things, and I was looking forward to eating my food in peace. But she hesitated on the steps, and I suppressed the urge to groan. I just wanted my burger. "Clary, I know this morning was awkward..."

I couldn't even try to suppress the groan that escaped me. This was the last thing I wanted to discuss as a steaming burger got cold before my eyes.

"I just wanted you to know that I think Simon is a really great guy," she said, giving me a look like she knew exactly how I felt about the situation. And I hated it when people though they could read me.

"He is," I responded coldly.

Isabelle pursed her lips, but she didn't comment.

"I'll just get out of your way." As she headed down the steps, she called back, "By the way, if ever want an outfit that doesn't scream 'hoe' let me know."

I rolled my eyes. Isabelle's attempt at a dig hardly scratched my vulnerability. But I couldn't help but admit that she was being sincere when she was discussing Simon. I ate my burger, despite the fact that I'd lost my appetite. I hadn't fully come to terms with Isabelle and Simon, and Isabelle didn't do much to rectify that. Even if she thought Simon was special, she couldn't even begin to understand how great he was.

I finished my burger and headed back to my room to freshen up. By the time I was done, it was time to meet with Jace. My stomach flipped, which I tried to blame on the burger (even though I knew it was cooked to perfection). After talking to Luke, I wasn't so sure about Jace. Could I trust him? I wanted to. More than anything, I wanted to believe we were in this together. But could I really? I mean I couldn't really blame him if he was in this for himself. He had billions on the line—his future, his everything.

And I... well I had nothing.

Except, of course, a homicidal, psychotic father.

I headed toward the foyer. Jace was waiting, leaning against the wall on his phone. He was wearing dark jeans and a dark leather jacket with an olive green shirt underneath. I felt my heart skip a beat. Whether or not anything could come between us, my body didn't want to wait and see. Seeing him was enough to cause a buzzing in my veins.

"Hey," I said, walking down the stairs. He looked up from his phone, and a smile broke across his face that made my heart race.

"Hey," he replied. "You ready to experience a stereotypical frat party?"

"Hm that depends. Will there be keggers and men dressed in togas?" I said. I walked up to him, unsure as to whether go in for a hug or kiss. So I did neither.

"Unfortunately, this party is going to be more tame than what you may have seen on TV," Jace said with a slight smirk.

"Oh so you assume I've never been to a frat party before?" I asked, with a cock of my eyebrow. I saw the smirk falter on Jace's face, which only fueled me to continue. "I've been to a few parties. Actually, the Sig Eps asked me to be their sweetheart."

Jace's smirk was completely wiped off his face.

"Oh so you're close with some of those guys then?" he asked, trying and failing to be uninterested.

I couldn't help but laugh. Jace's reaction practically lent itself to it.

"Yeah I tutored the president's brother, and he sort of took a liking to me," I said. It was true. The kid and I had an English class together. He cozied up to me after the first essay results. He wanted my help tutoring but I knew better than that. The guy was more interested in the letter of my bra size than his grade. I'd gone to a couple of frat parties for the free beer. But after several rejections, he still didn't get that I wasn't interested. However, he kept upping his propositions from dates to making me a sweetheart for his frat. It's apparently a big deal for girls, but since I had no interest in this guy, I happily declined.

But Jace didn't need to know all that, especially since he kept running his hands through his hair in a frustratingly sexy way that'd I'd grown to take delight in.

I walked past him out the door with an air of confidence. Jace wouldn't underestimate me again. He had a car ready for us. The driver also doubled as private security so there was a modicum of safety surrounding us.

The fraternity house was located a bit outside the city. And when I saw the stature of it I realized why. It was an old Victorian house with large white columns and the fraternity's Greek letters decorated the front. It wouldn't have fit within the confines of the city. Music blasted, vibrating the front yard.

As we walked up to the front passing guys who nodded to Jace and eyed me, I realized how out of my element I was. The frat parties I had been to were low-key ones out of some guy's parents' brownstone—not an elaborate house with two security guards at the door. They let Jace in with a nod, unleashing the red rope that guarded the entrance. When we entered, I let out an involuntary gasp at the splendor of the house. Right away, a young guy was there to take our coats. Servants walked around carrying flutes of champagne. There was a bar where two bartenders were shaking drinks.

We walked into the game room where there were Ping-Pong, poker, and pool tables, darts in the corner, DJ equipment, and a large screen TV where guys were playing Mario Kart. The girls here could have all walked out of Vogue magazine. The guys were dressed in sharp fitting outfits. I was definitely not dressed for the occasion.

"This is certainly not what I expected," I said. We headed over to a globe that doubled as a table for expensive scotch. He poured out two glasses and handed one to me. The scotch tasted like liquid gold. I assumed it cost more than my rent.

"Sebastian's father owns this place. He was in the fraternity as well and wanted a place of esteem for the future brothers," Jace said, sipping on his Scotch.

"What does his father do?" I asked, marveling at the fact that this guy bought a mansion for frat guys to party in.

"He owns a trading company. Or rather, _did_ ," Jace said, in a deliciously secretive way. I raised my eyebrows.

"What happened?"

"Insider trading scandal. The company is under investigation by the SEC. All of Sebastian's assets are frozen," Jace whispered.

"How scandalous," I said, taking another sip of my drink. I wanted to know more about the seedy underbelly of the elite—the one laced with corruption and excellent scotch.

Jace shrugged, unconcerned. Scandals were apparently a dime a dozen around here. I wondered where Sebastian was getting the money to finance extravagant parties and trips to strip clubs, but I felt it imprudent to ask.

We stood there in awkward silence, surveying the partygoers. The glamour of the place began to fade as I noticed more and more things. People were drunk. A lot of people were stumbling, and there was a couple sloppily making out against the wall. Also, the people who were serving drinks were all young guys. In fact, some of them dressed like servants were doing other things like holding drinks for people playing pool and even acting as a footstool for one guy playing Mario Kart.

I asked Jace about it.

"They're pledges," he said. There was a bit of edge to his voice, like he didn't approve of what was in front of us. "They're the guys who want to join the fraternity."

"So you guys are hazing them?" I asked. A pit was forming in my stomach. I'd certainly heard stories of crazy hazing. In fact, there was a story last year about one guy at our school landing in the hospital for a silly hazing act.

"No," Jace said, sternly. "We're a non-hazing fraternity. It's illegal."

"So that guy is on his hands and knees because he wants to?" I asked. Annoyance slipped into my tone. I didn't like that Jace was trying to defend treating people like shit.

Jace sighed.

"I don't like it, but some of the brothers like to torment the pledges. I don't though," he added, as if it somehow made it better that he was friends with a group like this. "Want to check out more of the party?" he asked.

I nodded, wanting to leave the game room. As we walked through the house, the crowd became denser. Drunk people seemed to multiply, and the music became overbearing. The heat combined with the stench of cheap beer and sweat reminded me of the frat parties I was used to attending. And it reminded me how much I disliked them. Thankfully, Jace led us outside. The backyard was huge and lit up with tiki torches and twinkle lights. There was a large pool that cast an eerie blue glow. In the pool, two guys were attempting to stand on pool floaties and fighting each other with pool noodles as a crowd watched and cheered. They were clearly belligerent. One guy whacked the other guy and he fell into the pool narrowly missing hitting the pool's edge. I sighed with relief when the guy climbed out of the pool unscathed.

"Oh fuck," Jace mumbled under his breath. "I'll be right back." He stalked angrily over to where Sebastian sat. Sebastian was dressed as impeccably as always. He wore a fitted navy suit with an open undershirt. He didn't appear overdressed even though he was. Instead, he made everyone around him look out of place. It was something only old money could do, even if that wasn't the case for him anymore. He certainly could keep up appearances.

Sebastian was lounging on the patio furniture next to a whiteboard that had names and scores on it drawn into a bracket. It was clearly being used for the scene in the pool. Likewise, one of the pledges was standing next to Sebastian taking bets for the fight. Across the pool, the next fighters were getting ready by doing keg stands. My stomach turned over. They were getting these guys drunk and then making them fight in a pool for their amusement.

Jace talked to Sebastian, gesturing angrily to the pool fighting. I couldn't hear Sebastian's response, but I could see his good-natured smile. He placed a hand on Jace's back and said something. Jace shrugged him off and walked back over to me. Sebastian watched as he walked away, the smile slipping from his face. He made eye contact with me, and for a brief moment I was met with a hostile stare. But he suddenly shot me a smile that made me doubt what I previously saw.

I smiled half-heartedly back. When Jace came back, he was clearly annoyed.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"This is dangerous. Sebastian knows he shouldn't be encouraging this," Jace said, glaring at the scene in front of him. One of the pledges attempted to get on the pool floatie and immediately fell into the pool. A whooping and cheering came from the crowd. They were clearly more interested in seeing the pledges drunkenly attempt to fight than actually fight. "This is exactly why I wanted out of this," Jace said, under his breath.

"Can you not leave or something?" I asked, confused.

Jace didn't answer me. Instead he said, "come on, let's get out of here." He grabbed my hand and led me back into the house.

I was more than happy to leave, but I couldn't let go of the feeling that we were being irresponsible by leaving when we knew something dangerous was happening.

"I'm just going to pop into the bathroom before we go," I told Jace.

"Sure. I'll get our jackets. The bathroom is through that hallway to the left," he said.

I headed off on my own in search of the bathrooms. This whole experience left me with a bad taste in my mouth. Why was Jace in this fraternity? He said he wasn't like these guys, but how could I be sure? The crowd of people got me disoriented. When I finally found an empty hallway, I wasn't sure which of the closed doors led to the bathroom. So I started opening all of them. The first door led to a weird threesome that I was invited to join. The second one had a passed out guy who was getting dicks drawn on him by some drunk girls. The third room was empty, but it wasn't the bathroom. Something caught me eye as I started to close the door.

I went inside the large room to the desk. On it was a magazine. I picked it up, heart racing. _It couldn't be_ , I thought. Jace's face stared back at me, his lips tilted upwards into a cocky smile. It was the magazine that was stolen from my apartment.

"This has to be a coincidence," I muttered as I flipped through it. "This is a popular magazine. Of course other people read it." But that didn't stop me from going to the page with the impressionist exhibit information. My blood froze. The page was dog-eared just like I had done.

"Are you going to attend that gallery?" a voice came from behind me.

I whipped around, dropping the magazine in the process. Sebastian stood in the doorway, blocking the light from the hallway. He stalked toward me, his features becoming sharper as he stepped into the shadows. My pulse was racing. Sebastian created a feeling of uneasiness within me. He stopped in front of me and picked up the magazine. He closed it and looked at the cover. He rolled his eyes at Jace's smiling face.

"Wh-where did you get that?" I asked.

"The magazine? I have a subscription. Or rather the fraternity house does," Sebastian said.

I sighed. I was being way too paranoid. Of course it's not the same magazine from my apartment. I most likely threw it away.

"So are you leaving?" he asked. "Jace seemed pretty annoyed earlier."

I shifted my feet. I really didn't want to talk to Sebastian alone in a dark room. Plus, I still had to go to the bathroom.

"Um yeah."

Sebastian rolled his eyes again.

"He's such a pussy," he said.

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes.

"What you guys were doing is dangerous. He doesn't want any part of it," I said, coming to Jace's defense. Sebastian scoffed.

"You don't know him that well, Clary. His whole humanitarian act is just because you're around," Sebastian said. His voice was baiting, like he knew his words were drawing me in. He had more to say, but he wanted me to ask. It was a game to him. How much did I want to know about Jace? How much was I willing to trust him?

"What do you mean?" I asked, wondering if I would regret it. Sebastian's lips turned up into a Cheshire grin. He knew I was desperate for the information. And he knew that what he was holding on to would hurt.

"Clary, Jace invented that game. He was the proprietor, the coordinator. He just pretends he doesn't like it because of what happened."

My voice was barely above a whisper.

"What happened?"

"He killed someone."

 **Review and let me know what you guys think!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"What?" I asked, covering my mouth with my hand. My ears were ringing. The room spun like a zoetrope, and I couldn't find my footing.

I suddenly thought back to last semester when I heard about some kid going to the hospital because of a hazing. But most of the details weren't released, and the whole thing was swept under the rug within a week. And I was starting to realize why. All the scandals Jace was involved with were taken care of thanks to his money and team of lawyers led by Hodge.

I hugged myself.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked. Sebastian suddenly came close, eyes glinting like volcanic rock. He gripped my arms.

"Because you need to know who Jace really is. He's a coward—can't handle power. You saw earlier. He could've stopped me, could've stopped the pledges from fighting, but he didn't. He's weak, and you should know it," he said, shaking me with manic desperation.

I pulled away half disgusted and half afraid. I didn't know what he meant, but I wanted to be as far away from him as possible. He seriously creeped me out.

"Clary?" a voice came from the door. "You okay?"

I turned around. Jace stood in the door looking alarmed. I was relieved to see him, until I remembered what Sebastian just told me.

"Jace, leaving so soon?" Sebastian said. His demeanor had shifted back to charming friend.

"Don't pretend to be naïve, Seb," Jace said angrily. He walked up to him, and I moved out of the way, unsure of whom I wanted to be furthest from. Jace pointed at him as he talked. "We agreed we weren't going to haze anymore. Especially not that—" Jace stopped himself, clenching his fists and then dropping them to his sides in a sign of defeat.

Sebastian took this as an opportunity to pounce.

"Especially not what, Jace? I'm sure we all want to know what you were going to say," he said, gesturing to me. Jace turned around, face mixed with fear and desperation.

"Clary, I..."

I didn't let him finish. I ran out of the room. I couldn't be near them any longer—couldn't be in the middle of the warpath. I didn't want to hear the story. I understood what Luke was trying to tell me about Jace. He was a storm in the night—he brought chaos and destruction but never had to be responsible. And so the people he left behind in his wake were left to suffer alone.

I pushed my way through the crowd that somehow was denser and sweatier than usual like I was moving through sand. When I made it outside, I gulped in the chilled night air. The remains of the party—the smell of sweat and the pulsating beats—permeated out into the front yard. When I looked back, I saw a gorgeous mansion that didn't betray the horrors within.

I ignored the car that brought me here and instead pulled out my phone. Before I could dial my Uber, a heard a voice shouting my name.

"Clary, wait!"

Jace came running toward me.

"Don't even, Jace!" I shouted, backing away from him. My phone was clutched in my hand like it was a weapon.

"I don't know what Sebastian told you," he said, panting between words drawing puffs of white in the air with his lips.

"You wanna know what he told me?" I said, letting the anger take over the fear. "He told me what kind of person you really are. That you're an uncaring, selfish bastard just like the rest of them! You don't have to take responsibility for your actions because your money can do that for you!" I shouted, pointing to the house full of people who cared only about themselves. "And to think." I laughed, even though none of this was funny. I sobered up. "And to think, I thought you were this vulnerable guy, someone who...well what does it matter? You're not that guy. You never were."

Jace looked stricken.

"Clary, please," he begged.

"You—you killed somebody," I whispered, as if I couldn't say it aloud.

"I didn't mean to," he said, his voice cracking.

The tumultuous anger I was feeling paused. I felt my heart breaking in its place. A part of me had wished he would deny it, say it was ludicrous and that it was Sebastian's sick idea of a joke. But I could see it in his eyes—he wasn't lying. This tormented him.

"Please, please, just let me explain. I'm not the guy you think I am," he said, falling to his knees. His demeanor shocked me. I hadn't expected this—this raw vulnerability. I had expected hasty defenses and cover-ups not a guy literally on his knees begging for my forgiveness.

"Fine," I said, surprised at my own words. Jace looked up from the grass. Hope crossed his distressed face. "What happened?"

Did I want to hear him out? Was he just going to lie to me more? Why did I care so much? I was starting to regret not having called an Uber.

Jace said he'd prefer to talk away from the house. The driver took us to a nearby park. We sat at opposite ends of the bench. The air was cold around me, but the night's events kept my skin flushed (and maybe slightly from the scotch). The clouds hid the stars. The street lamps lit the park in an orange glow, drawing out the shadows of the night.

"Seb and I were in the same pledge class last year. Since we were legacies, the older brothers were merciless on us. They really hated that we'd get into the fraternity because of our parents. We bonded over the shared misery of hazing, vowing that we'd get even one day. But there's like this veil that's lifted once you're inducted as a brother—you forget your anger, or at least you forget who it's directed at. Seb began working his way up to president. Even though he was a sophomore he had his ways. I just wanted to be responsible for the new pledges—I was angry and stupid and wanted to prove I was in control."

Jace grimaced. He was revealing something about himself, something dark he'd tried to keep hidden. I was desperate for him to stop just as much as I wanted to hear more. He was the equivalent of a car wreck—I knew looking would change everything and yet I needed to know how bad it was. And perhaps, if there was any chance of survival.

"Seb and I came up with all sorts of horrible things for the new class of pledges to do—all of which involved getting them smashed and humiliating them. It was fun at first, but Seb was never satisfied. He got obsessed with seeing how far he could push them—testing their loyalty to the fraternity. He had suggested making them fight each other like a Fight Club type thing. But by this point, I was disillusioned by the whole thing. Being in charge of the pledges didn't mean I got respect. I got resentment. I was creating a cycle of anger and revenge. So I suggested that we tone it down a bit. I added the pool noodle and floaties bit to make it a bit more light-hearted. And then..."

He paused, as if his tongue knew the weight of his next words.

"It was the night before the induction ceremony. We were all hanging out at the house, and Sebastian suggested we do the water Fight Club thing. We were all drinking, so I didn't think it was a great idea. But I didn't argue with him. Honestly, I don't remember much from that night." He raked a hand through his hair, and then placed his head in his hands not looking at me. "I must've blacked out or something—which never happens, but I guess I wasn't careful that night." He blew out a breath.

"Um yeah so when I woke up the next morning, passed out on a pool chair, Sebastian told me what happened. Before everything the hazing game went without a hitch. But then this one pledge—Raphael." The name was hard for Jace to say. He took his face out of his hands. His face was red, and he smiled without humour. "He and Sebastian had this huge thing. Apparently it had to do with some girl. Raphael kept flirting with her or something. Truthfully, I think Seb just hated that someone had disrespected him. Anyway, he was up next, and I volunteered to fight him. One thing led to another... we were both so drunk," he whispered.

My heart started racing. I could tell we were reaching the climax of the story. I wanted to grab Jace's hand or something. But he was far away, and I didn't think even my touch could bring him back.

"I hit him. He went down, smacking his head against the side of the pool." He looked up to the night sky, taking in a shaky breath. I could tell he didn't want to look at me. "You were right before. I'm a coward—I couldn't even go visit Raphael in the hospital after it happened. Hodge made sure to keep it out of the papers. We keep the parents quiet by paying for the hospital bills," he added miserably.

The present tense startled me.

"What do you mean? Are you still paying for things?"

Jace glanced at me, surprised. Red rimmed his eyes—or it was just how the light hit him.

"I thought Sebastian told you? Raphael is in a coma, has been for several months now."

This revelation bothered me. Sebastian sure had made it sound more sinister. And I'd fallen right into his trap. I had assumed the worse with Jace, something I had thought was an asset of mine. But now I wasn't so sure.

"No," I said quietly. "He didn't mention that part."

Jace didn't seem bothered by Sebastian's exclusion.

"It doesn't matter. He's basically dead. The doctors aren't optimistic about his recovery. Hodge tried to convince me to... let things happen organically, but I refused. I still have hope. Rafael was a fighter, and I... I owe him that much."

We sat in silence. I was thinking about what Jace had told me. It didn't seem fair—to either of them. What Jace did was wrong, but it was so clearly an accident. And yet, Jace seemed to bare the burden completely.

"Jace," I started, unsure of what to say. Did I comfort him, could I comfort him? Did he deserve it?

"I should go, Clary, I really should. But I can't make myself."

I was startled by the use of my name. And it took me moment to realize what he was referring to.

"The hospital?"

"I should go and see him. Apologize, bring him flowers... something," Jace said. I felt like I was losing him again, like he was slipping away into his guilt. "But, I can't..." The desperation in his voice broke my heart.

"What if I went with you?" I asked suddenly.

Jace glanced at me, my words not registering with him.

"What?"

"I—I could go with you? Maybe that'd make it easier for you," I asked, more unsure than before.

Now Jace turned to me. I was worried I'd said the wrong thing. He stared at me like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve in his head.

"I thought you would've been gone by now," he admitted. "Unless you're drawn to toxic men," he added with a laugh.

I laughed uncomfortably. He didn't know how true that was.

"I can't seem to escape you," I said, suddenly perfectly serious. His eyes met mine. The laughter fell away, the sadness fell away, everything seemed to slip out of the corners of our mind until it was just the two of us. His tawny eyes were beautiful. But the sadness permeated throughout reminding me of the Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with gold.

"Okay," he said, breaking the silence. My mind had gone elsewhere, imagining the beauty that could be crated with his pain.

"Okay what?" I asked, forcing myself to be in the moment with him. Jace's resolve dissolved a bit.

"Uh the hospital thing. I think maybe I could do it—if you were there for me," he said. His teeth chattered slightly, but I wasn't sure if it was because he was cold.

"Of course," I said in a gentle tone. It would have been appropriate to grab his hand, but he was still too far away. "Whenever you feel up for it—"

"Let's go now," he said, his eyes ablaze with fear and determination.

"Jace," I started. But he was already standing up, walking to the car. I hurried after him. "Jace, not now. The visiting hours—"

"I pay for that whole ward that Raphael is in," he said, waving away my comment. "They'll let me in." He looked back at me. A sort of manic desperation descended over him. He rushed towards me, now fully under the shifty glow of the street lamp. He grabbed my hands. His were shaking and sweaty, but he had a firm grip. "Please, Clary. I have to go now. For me, for him, for you—I just have to."

I stared into his eyes. He truly believed that if he didn't make things right, his whole world would come toppling down. I felt a trickle of remembrance. A chill went down my spine. I used to be like that. I used to have to walk on eggshells around Valentine for fear of setting off his temper. It was never his fault that he was physically and emotionally abusive. The blame somehow always landed on my shoulders. I couldn't absolve myself and so the guilt grew over the years like sand falling from the top of an hourglass.

I wanted to grab Jace and shake him out of his reality—scream at him that he didn't have to shoulder this guilt. But I knew that wouldn't work. So I did the next best thing, I went with him.

We got back in the car. Jace looked out the window most of the time. His leg bounced up and down violently. We arrived the hospital, and we sat in the car for a couple of minutes. The hospital cast an eerie glow through the car's windows making Jace look sick. Then as if he had a sudden burst of determination, he threw himself out the car door. I quickly followed, struggling with the seatbelt.

But I didn't fall behind because as soon as Jace reached the doors, he turned right back around. I intercepted him before he could rush back to the car. I grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Jace, you can do it," I said, forcing his gold eyes to meet my green ones.

He just shook his head.

"I thought I could, but—"

"Let's just make it through the door. Okay? Do you think you can do that?" I asked, rubbing his arms in calming strokes.

He didn't respond at first, and then he nodded. I held on to Jace's arm, and we slowly made our ascent to the front doors of the hospital. We made it through without a hitch. Inside it was quiet. People were sitting in the waiting room reading magazines, scrolling through their phones, and some just staring blankly at the wall. A game show was playing on a TV in the corner of the room, providing a soundtrack to the hospital's waiting area.

"See, Jace, we made it inside. Nothing bad happened. What floor is he on?" I asked gently.

Jace took furtive glances around the hospital as if any moment he expected them to wheel out dead bodies on gurneys. His pallor hadn't returned to normal, and I wondered if he would throw up.

"Um...seventh floor," he said through a pant. His lips were the color of someone who kissed a chalkboard eraser.

"Jace, do you maybe want to sit down for a bit? We can catch up on the latest news." I absentmindedly picked up a magazine. "See, I bet you didn't know that Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are getting a divorce," I said, glancing at the magazine.

Jace let out a small laugh.

"That was news like 6 months ago," he said.

"Well, I don't think the hospital is concerned about staying up to date with current celebrity trends as much as they are medical practices," I said, tossing the magazine aside. A little color was returning to Jace's face.

"Let's go up," he said, a new resolve settling on his features.

"Okay," I said, squeezing his hand.

Jace walked briskly to the elevator, pulling me along. Once we were inside the elevator, Jace seemed to relax a bit. The genius of an elevator is that they all look the same. The doors stopped a few floors up and opened up to allow several nurses on. Jace pushed himself against the rail to distance himself from the incomers. I wasn't sure what his aversion was to nurses, but I stopped in front of him in hopes of sheltering him. I felt his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer. He hid his face in the bush of my hair, breathing my scent in.

I relaxed in him, forgetting momentarily about all the shitty things that made this wrong. The elevator stopped again, and the nurses stepped out. Jace let me go when they were gone, and I immediately missed the closeness. A blush of shame crept up my cheeks.

When the seventh floor came up, I wasn't sure if Jace was going to step out. But he surprised me. He walked out of the elevator and down the hall, almost as if he was on autopilot. Nurses and doctors had to move out of his way as he beelined for the room I knew he dreaded. He headed around a corner, and I thought I'd lost him.

When I finally turned the corner, I saw him sitting against a door. His head was in his hands. When I approached him, he didn't look up. Instead of saying anything, I sat right down next to him.

I wanted to touch him. My limbs ached as I resisted the urge that for some reason came so naturally when I was around Jace. I told myself I was being respectful. Jace was vulnerable—he didn't need my growing feelings for him to complicate things. But I knew the real reason for my hesitation. I was worried that Jace's desire for me was a product of his vulnerability. He needed someone at the moment, and I was just the closest one.

Sadness is like that. It's can create a bond that feels as tight as rope but it'll dissolve like sand the moment things get better. And I didn't want to trick myself in believing I was anything more than temporary comfort.

"You don't have to go in," I said. "You can be proud of how far you got today. We can come back tomorrow." I whispered, afraid to break the fragile silence of the hallway.

"I want to go in, but I'm scared at what I might find," he said.

That was understandable. I'd never seen someone in a coma, but I'm sure it wasn't easy to convince yourself that they were just sleeping. Likewise, Jace had mentioned that the doctors weren't optimistic about Raphael's recovery. Suddenly I remembered learning about the unpredictability of comas that I learned from a medical drama on TV.

"When did you last hear about Raphael's diagnosis?" I asked. Jace flinched at the sound of his name.

He brought his head up, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Um it was a couple months ago."

"Well maybe there's a chance he's doing better. Let's ask a doctor," I said renewed with hope. I was about to stand up, but Jace's hand on my arm stopped me. At first he didn't say anything, just starred at my face. I wasn't sure what he saw. I found myself blushing under his intense scrutiny. Finally he let go of me, and the magic that had captured him disappeared.

"They won't tell you anything since you're not his family," he said. He looked up at the fluorescent tiles on the ceiling.

"But the doctors told Hodge?"

"Hodge is like his benefactor. Raphael's parents are international ambassadors. They're hardly ever in the city. And considering their high stature, the deal Hodge struck was best for them. We pay to keep Raphael in the best hospital in the city and it never gets out that their son was drinking underage."

Jace said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. But I would never be able to understand the deals made between rich people. Because in that world appearance was king and any kink in their perfected lives was dealt with swiftly and silently. A surge of bitterness swept through me. It was easier to be disgusted than jealous of the lives of the wealthy.

But after seeing Jace's ashen face and body that wanted to turn in on itself, I realised it wasn't that simple. Not everyone came out of it unscathed.

"Then let's call Hodge and see if he has any news on the recovery," I suggested.

"No," Jace said, a little more force in his voice. "Hodge can't know I'm here. He forbade me from coming saying that people could put two and two together. And since... well you know... I didn't put up much of a fight."

I was loosing my edge here. Jace kept knocking down every idea for my long-shot plan. I was flailing; I needed my plan to work. I needed to help Jace, needed to relieve him of the burden of guilt crushing him.

"I have an idea," I said suddenly. It was crazy and probably wouldn't work, but by god, I was going to try it.

I stood up and checked around the corner to the nurses' station. I pulled out my cell phone and dialled the hospital's number.

"New York Presbyterian hospital, where can I direct you?"

"Seven north," I said. I watched as someone answered the phone at the desk.

"Seven north floor," a woman responded.

"Hi I'm from Hodge Starkweather's office. I'm calling in regard of one of his clients, Raphael

I glanced at Jace.

"Santiago," he mouthed.

"Santiago. Can you tell me his condition?"

I watched as the nurse pulled out a file from a file cabinet. She opened it up.

"Can you tell me the date of birth of the patient?"

My palms started to sweat. What was up with the interrogation?

"Um can I ask why?"

Jace must have noticed my apprehension because he mouthed "what" at me. I shook my head at him in lieu of a response.

"It's hospital procedure to ask about the patient before we give any information over the phone. Mr. Starkweather would be aware of this," the woman said.

"Hold on one moment while I confirm," I said sweetly.

I held the phone away from my mouth.

"Do you know his birthday?"

Jace shook his head and mouthed "sorry." I muttered a curse word. I wasn't sure how else we could—suddenly another crazy idea formed. I glanced at the woman at the nurses' desk, who was looking at Raphael's file. No one else was around. This floor seemed empty enough to pull off what I was thinking.

"Jace, go in front of that desk and fake being injured."

"What?" Jace asked.

"I need you to distract her so I can read the file!" I said

Jace's face slowly morphed from confusion to realisation. There was excitement in his eyes for the first time this night.

He limped over to the desk. Then, as if he was a Broadway actor, he fell dramatically to the floor. He hollered and clutched his ankle. The nurse ran from behind the desk to help him. I used this time to sneak over to the desk and glance at the file.

"What's wrong? Tell me where it hurts," the nurse said, trying to ascertain the problem.

"My ankle," Jace moaned. She tried to touch the ankle, which Jace stopped her by hollering again. The nurse then tried to examine it more carefully. Her back was fully turned towards the nurses' station. Careful not to draw attention to myself, I snuck up to the desk and took pictures of the file.

She glanced back at the desk, just I was turning the file back around. Heart hammering because I thought I got caught, I quickly threw myself at Jace's side.

"Oh no, sweetie. Can you walk?" I began to help Jace stand. "I can take it from here," I said, to the nurse.

"Wait if his ankle is broken-"

"Nope it feels fine!" Jace said, carefully stepping on it. "Must've been a cramp!"

We rushed out of there, not looking back at the confused nurse. Once we were far enough away, I went back to my phone call.

"Hi, sorry about that. I think Mr. Starkweather is going to call himself for the information," I said, ready to hang up and read the information.

"The condition hasn't changed since we last sent information regarding the patient two weeks ago," the nurse responded.

"What?" I asked.

"Our records show that we just sent out a monthly update on Mr. Santiago to Mr. Starkweather's address."

I wasn't sure how to respond to this. A feeling a dread curled in my guilt. If Hodge was getting monthly updates and not telling Jace about Raphael's condition, that wasn't a good sign.

"Right, he asked me to call because he misplaced them," I lied.

"Anything else?" The nurse asked, clearly unbothered as to why I was calling.

I thanked her and hung up. My excitement from earlier vanished. I walked over to Jace, whose eyes still sparkled from our mischief.

"We make quite a team," he said smiling. His smile faded a bit when he saw the look of dread on my face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" I said, forcing a smile on my face. I didn't want to ruin his mood. If what was on my phone was bleak, then I'd rather him have this one moment of happiness.

"So what did the file say?" he asked. I could see the hope bleeding through his demeanour. The dread in my stomach worsened, mixing with an oncoming rush of guilt. What have I done?

"It's on my phone," I said, handing it over. Jace took the phone, eyes still on me. I could tell he was wondering why I looked so shook.

I watched him read the papers on my phone.

"Oh my god," he said, his face the epitome of serious.

"What?" Fear gripped my chest.

Before he answered, a radiant smile formed on his face, suppressing my dread somewhat.

"He's getting better! The doctor's notes indicates a significant improvement." He kept on reading. "They believe it's only a matter of time before he wakes up for good!"

His whole body vibrated happiness. So much so that it seemed to leak out of him and corrupt me. I couldn't help it. I found myself smiling.

He looked at me like I put the stars in the sky. He embraced me, placing one hand behind my head and the other around my waist. He brought me close—flush against his body. I could feel the erratic beat of his heart—like how I imagine a runner feels when they're about to win.

When he pulled back, the elation on his face didn't fade. The radiating smile became sincere.

"Thank you," he said

"For what?" I swallowed. No one had ever looked at me with this amount of adoration. It made me uncomfortable, like I didn't deserve it, like I had somehow tricked Jace into believing I was more than I am.

"You made me come here. If it weren't for you, I'd never have felt this...this peace," he said, a satisfied look appearing on his face. "I didn't kill Raphael. He'll live!"

I didn't get a chance to say anything before he embraced me again. This time I didn't hold back. I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his neck. My breasts pushed up again this hard chest. It felt so nice to be held with such tender affection.

I knew I was milking this situation. I didn't make Jace come here. He came on his own accord, and I was just here with him for support. But I loved the way his muscular arms felt around my body. I was safe within his arms, and it'd been a long time since I could find sanctuary in a person.

I pulled back, feeling like I had abused the situation. Jace backed away politely and put his hands in his pockets. Suddenly, something dawned on me.

"Have you ever asked Hodge about Raphael's condition?" I asked. I was wondering why Hodge wouldn't tell Jace the good news about his recovery.

"I asked a few times but Hodge's usual answer was that he'd tell me if it improves."

"Why didn't he tell you about this?" I asked. I bit my thumbnail.

Jace shrugged, seemingly unconcerned about Hodge's nondisclosure.

"I'm sure he just forgot," he said.

That answer didn't satisfy me. How could Hodge forget such life-changing news? This news absolved Jace of some of his guilt. It was cruel to keep him drowning.

"So I know this night hasn't been fun like I promised," Jace started. I laughed. That was an understatement. "But I can make it up to you—if you're not tired, that is." He rocked on his feet. By the look on his face, I could tell he was worried I'd decline—like this night had left red on his ledger.

I thought about it for a moment. If anything, Jace proved that he wasn't the guy I assumed he was. Sure he was dealt a better hand than me. But my judgement of him had been way off. He wasn't this selfish, uncaring person. He cared deeply and greatly, and he'd do anything to right his wrongs. Even though his way of doing it was through money.

"I'd like that," I said.

Jace smiled, relief passing over his face leaving pure happiness.

We left the hospital, Jace with a skip in his step. We got into the car. Jace told the driver an address. We didn't speak much in the car, but it wasn't an awkward silence. It felt almost necessary. We each needed to process the events of the night.

I knew Jace was elated about Raphael's condition. He mentioned that he'd go back tomorrow to get a full update from the doctor. I was happy for him. In one night he took a step forward to getting over his fear of hospitals and the smuggling guilt. But I wasn't completely satisfied with our adventure.

Something was off about the situation with Hodge.

The driver pulled up to a nondescript sidewalk. It had the same sleazy 24-hour dry cleaners that were a dime a dozen in NYC. Also decorating the dark street was a kebab restaurant, which had its lights on but no one was around.

Jace led me past all these shops and down an alley I never would've braved by myself. After passing by dumpsters that were more grime than metal, we stopped in front of a door. The light bulb next to it was burnt out. Jace knocked twice. A peephole slid open, revealing a pair of brown eyes.

"Mangos," Jace said.

The peephole slid shit, and I heard bolts unlocking. The large metal door opened up, and we were escorted inside to a bar that was frozen in time. The walls were covered in crushed red velvet. The lights were dimmed to the point where the main source of light was coming from candles on the tables. The tables were a deep cherry wood and the accompanying seats were leather cushions. A stage stood proudly at the head of the room—everything in the bar seemed in awe of the stage. I soon found out why.

Jace went to the bar to get us drinks while I sat near the front of the stage. The bar wasn't swamped with people—it was comfortably full with people who knew how exclusive this place was. An older woman came on the stage to a polite clap. A man followed her with a harp. As the woman got into place, the buzz of the bar silenced, and anticipation thickened the air.

She began thrumming the strings of the harp, and I felt my breath catch. The room transformed. The exclusivity in the room vanished as we were all transported to the same place of ethereal beauty. Everything about her suddenly seemed desirable—the whole room knew it as they watched her pluck sounds out of the air. I didn't realize I had tears in my eyes, until she had finished.

I turned to Jace, somewhat embarrassed by my reaction, until I saw that he was also transfixed by the woman. We stared at each other, not needing words to convey our mutual enjoyment. We sipped our drinks as she started another song—equally melodic as the first.

After a couple more songs, she was met with a thunderous applause. She stepped of the stage, and, to my surprise, came toward our table.

Jace stood up and gave her a hug.

"Clary, this is Tessa," he said, introducing us. Tessa smiled at me, and we shook hands.

"You were just wonderful," I said, gushing. She was as beautiful as the melody she played, with grey eyes that mimicked a calm storm.

"Thanks! Wait until you hear Jace play. His music makes mine sound like kitschy elevator music," Tessa said.

I glanced at Jace. He was smirking.

"Don't listen to her. She's getting forgetful in her old age," he said. She slapped him lightly on the arm and laughed. The sound was harsh, so unlike her beautiful music. But I found it fitting—as if her talent for the harp somehow stole her ability to laugh melodically.

"By that line of logic, Jace, you should be respecting your elders," she added, a look of mischief in her eyes.

"You can't fault that logic," I said, with a laugh. Tessa sent a smile my way.

"So, Jace, are you going to play for this girl here?" Tessa said.

"Maybe," Jace said secretively.

"Oh please, you wouldn't have brought her here if you weren't trying to impress her. He doesn't ever bring girls here, Clary," she said, turning to me and giving me a wink.

I was secretly pleased by that admission. Jace, however, looked annoyed that his secret was out.

"If I go up and play, will you stop spilling all my secrets," he said to Tessa.

"Maybe," she said, mimicking his earlier mysterious.

Jace just smiled and then stood up to get one stage. He sat in front of an ebony piano, and a hush appeared over the crowd. I glanced around, surprised at the preliminary reaction. Tessa leaned in and whispered, "Jace is famous here. Everyone adores him."

"Sounds like Jace's everyday life," I muttered.

Tessa laughed the baroque laugh. Someone at a nearby table shot us a look, upset that we were disturbing the respectful silence.

"I'm glad to see you're not going to let him off the hook. He needs someone to keep him grounded." Tessa gave me knowing look. I felt myself blushing.

"I'm not his girlfriend," I said. For some reason it was important that she knew that. I could feel her expectations pushing down on me—it was too much pressure. I didn't want to let her down. I didn't want to let Jace down. And I knew that any sort of relationship with him would eventually culminate in his disappointment.

I felt my stomach twist in a knot. Why was I here? Why did I keep entertaining the idea of Jace and I? We were from different worlds. He was going to inherit a billion-dollar company and I was probably going to scrape by for the rest of my life. I knew that wasn't the worst issue facing us. But I wasn't going to let my father haunt this night.

Suddenly music flitted through the air, softly, teasing, waiting for everyone's attention to be fully focused. His music elicited a different reaction around the room than Tessa's. We weren't all entwined by the tune. Instead it bounced about playfully and seductively, making the audience desperate to catch it, to be enlightened, to be touched by it.

The harmonies sounded like litanies. They passed through me, and I could see colors: cerulean, verdigris, jasper, icterine, amaranthine. Colors I didn't even know existed, Jace somehow created. Jace's eyes met mine, and I was lost in the molten tawdry. The world around me softened like if you stare at the sun for too long. His music changed, seemingly to mimic the chaotic rush of feelings that overwhelmed me.

I hastily rubbed away the tears that kept sneaking their way down my cheeks. Tessa put a hand on my shoulder as if to tell me it was normal. A rumbling sound of applause followed his performance along with a scattering of whistles.

Tessa stood up then, and after saying goodbye, headed to talk to Jace. She embraced him and whispered something in his ear that made him smile. Then she walked off. Jace came back to the table, and I found myself unable to meet his eye. I smiled at him as he sat. He seemed equally uncomfortable, and we drank our drinks in silence.

I could see people sneaking glances at our table. Girls looked like they were working up the nerve to come over and talk with him. At least two drinks were brought over from the bartender from other patrons.

"That was..." I tried to think of the right words to describe it. I struggled. "God this'd be easier if I had a paint brush. It's just easier you know to say things through art?" I laughed awkwardly.

I felt Jace's fingers under my chin. Gently, he nudged me to look at him. I met his eyes shyly.

"I know exactly what you mean. It's hard for me to say what I'm feeling." He took a breath. "So let me just show you."

He leaned in and gently pressed his lips against mine. And even though there was no music playing, our hearts created their own rhythm.

 **Review and tell me what you think!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

I pinched off a piece of my poppy seed muffin and put it in my mouth. The flavor burst in my mouth, and it was like I'd never tasted a muffin before. Come to think of it, my cappuccino was delightful as well. I smiled and wondered if my newfound zest for breakfast food had anything to do with last night. My mind replayed the rest of the night.

After the kiss we shared, we couldn't keep our hands off each other. In the car, back at the Institute, in Jace's bedroom, we were all over each other. But it never got any further. Jace was respectful, careful not to push me too far. As sweet as his restraint was, I found myself frustrated whenever he pulled back. When I was with Jace, I couldn't think straight. My mind got hazy and all I could think about how every touch elicited a fire that threatened to consume me.

Jace and I made plans to hang out tonight and I was going to have to control myself. Being alone and close to each other was not going to help my resolve. Every time I'm near him, I want to suck on his fingers.

Simon walked through the door to the coffee shop. I waved at him, and he pointed to the register to indicate he was going to order a coffee. I watched him wait in line. He looked exhausted with purple shadows under his eyes and a wrinkled shirt. I knew he hated working night shifts. He always claimed that's when the vampires and werewolves came out.

I looked around the coffee shop. I loved this place. It was a snug little joint with funky art from local artists displayed throughout. Simon actually convinced the owner to display one of my pieces. They put it in the bathroom, but I was just thrilled to be on display. He joined me at the table and took a long sip of his coffee.

"How was work?" I asked, taking another bite of my muffin.

"Long," he said, with a barely supressed groan. "A lot of public urination arrests."

"Well that's never fun," I said.

"Yeah. And they weren't just urinating on the street. Apparently these thirsty sons of bitches couldn't hold it while at the station. And guess who was on clean-up duty?" Simon pointed to himself with a dry expression. I cringed and took another sip of my coffee. "What'd you do last night?"

I didn't answer right away. I had a feeling if I told Simon the full story of debauchery including going to an unsupervised frat party and stealing confidential medical records, it wouldn't go over well.

"I hung out with Jace," I said, hoping my tone didn't invite further questions.

Simon trained his gaze on me.

"Jace? Are you guys friends now or something?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah...is that a problem?" I asked, eyes narrowing.

"I just thought you hated him. I mean, he's kind of a dick."

"You don't know him," I said defensively.

"Do you?"

Simon's gaze pierced mine. I wanted to look away, but I knew better than that. Simon was trained in interrogation techniques. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction that I wasn't confident about Jace.

"So how long are we going to keep dancing around the fact that you and Isabelle hooked up?" I said, unable to stop the bitterness from leeching into my tone.

Simon broke eye contact first, glancing down at his cup of coffee. Guilt twisted at my stomach. I hadn't wanted to start this conversation with blazing guns. When I rehearsed the conversation in my head, I was calm and collected, the perfect picture of nonchalance. It was the opposite of how I felt. I knew that my feelings of jealousy and betrayal were unfair. Simon wasn't my boyfriend—he hadn't made any promises of fidelity. And yet, the thought of Simon with another woman made me want to bang my fists against the table in indignation. I moved my muffin to the side in case the urge became overwhelming.

"I know it was unprofessional of me to get involved with a suspect in your case, dangerous even. And I've already told Izzy that we can't continue a relationship while your case is still open," he said. He said Isabelle's name softly with a hint of a smile.

I just stared at him, unsure of how to respond. I hadn't prepared for his defence. Did he think I was concerned with his level of professionalism?

"Simon, that wasn't really..."

"I think you should do the same. With Jace, that is," he added. "Just until the case is over and you can be sure that his motives aren't corrupt."

I wanted to argue with him. Ask him where he got off telling me who I could and couldn't date. But that would have been hypocritical. After all, weren't we having this conversation because of my attempt to control his dating life? Similarly, I couldn't ignore the soundness of his advice. If last night was any indication, Jace trusted me. And the more time I spent with him, the more my hard exterior seemed to chip away. But despite that, I couldn't be sure Jace and I were anything more than a product of our situation. Two people forced together by accident, creating a bond out of convenience.

"I don't think I can do that," I said, more to myself than to Simon.

"What are you trying to say?"

What was I trying to say? That I was willing to risk myself for Jace? That even though there are a million and one reasons that it won't work out, I'm holding out for the slight chance it will? I tried to articulate my thoughts.

"Simon, I've spent most of my life scared. Too scared to take any chances. To scared to actually _live_." Simon gave me a knowing look. He was fully aware of my time as a time as a hermit. And he'd helped me get past that. "Look where that got me? I'm still in danger. I think it's time for me to take a chance."

"And you think Jace is worth it?" Simon asked.

I smiled despite myself and gave a slight shrug.

"I guess I'll find out. That's what's exciting about it."

Simon reached over and grasped my hand.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"I'm too strong for that," I said, with a wink. But I returned his touch. "I don't think you should let the case stop you from dating Isabelle." Simon's shocked expression matched mine.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

I tried to process what I let slip. Hadn't I wanted to dissuade Simon from dating Isabelle because of unfair feelings of jealousy? But the more I thought about Jace the less the flare of jealousy seemed to burn. Simon and I were alike in many ways. But one major similarity was that we didn't keep relationships for long. Simon was close to his mom, his sister, and well... me, to the extent that no woman could ever compare to their love for him. He hardly ever dated. He always claimed it was because work made him busy. And he was doing the same with Isabelle.

"Just...if you think she's worth it, don't let anything come between you," I said.

Soon after Simon got called to respond to a domestic dispute a few blocks away. I hoped he'd consider what I said. I didn't necessarily like Isabelle, but I also knew Simon never spent the night with a woman he just met. There was something special about her, even if I couldn't see it.

After glancing at my watch, I left the café and head back to the Institute. Jace had told me that Hodge was going to be away all morning, and I wanted another chance at that file. I called my security detail and waited outside the café, periodically looking at my phone.

"Clary?"

I looked up as Sebastian waved from down the street. I involuntarily moved away. He was the last person I wanted to see. Strike that. That spot was unequivocally for Valentine. But Sebastian was a close second.

"I thought it was you," he said, as he sauntered up to me. He was dressed impeccably like always. But I didn't want to admire his finesse or his Italian leather shoes. After last night, I didn't even want to make small talk with him. Jace had said a lot of damning things about him. His need to be in control and torture pledges was one strike against him. But it was more than that. It was the look he got in his eyes when Jace and I were around—like we were his dolls and he couldn't wait to play with us.

He gave me a small smile. He looked almost vulnerable. But I didn't trust him. It was his best asset: the ability to obliterate any scepticism, to make people feel that _they're_ crazy for thinking he could be anything more than pleasant. I shifted away from him, clutching my arm. It was a defensive stance. If he made any wrong move my elbow as going to smash that pretty hook nose of his.

Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck. I didn't even admire the way his shirt tightened across his biceps. But as an artist, I couldn't help but notice how graceful his movements were. The artist in me wanted to sculpt him or paint him—capture his movements forever. My mother was incredible at capturing motion. Whenever someone would look at her art, they'd always do a double take. They thought they imagined the swirling colors and pulsating shapes. But somehow my mother could give paintings life.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. It made me uneasy how he always seemed to pop up announced.

"My drycleaners is down the street." It was then I noticed the plastic garment bag he was holding. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened last night. I was drunk—which I know isn't an excuse. I just don't want you to think I'm a bad guy," he said, almost pleadingly. I didn't understand his need to make things right with me. What did my approval matter to him?

"It's okay," I said, more to get him to go away then to absolve him. Sebastian smiled, seemingly relieved. But something still bothered me. "Why did you tell me Raphael was dead?"

Sebastian faltered. His lack of composure shocked me.

"What?"

"Jace went to visit him. He's expected to make a full recovery. You made it seem like he was dead."

"He _is_ dead. Jace killed him," Sebastian said stubbornly. I was confused about his insistence.

"He's alive, Sebastian."

I couldn't read Sebastian's emotions. He was confused, maybe even a little angry.

"Well, that's great news," he said finally, but his face betrayed his words. "Look, I got to run actually. Could I see you again? I'd love to make it up to you." He smiled, trying to appear charming. But I saw right through his façade.

"I don't think it's a good idea," I said.

Sebastian's smile slipped a fraction.

"I'm not going to take 'no' for an answer." He said it like a pleasantry, but his tone had an edge to it. The kind of edge I hadn't heard since Valentine. It sent a shiver down my spine. All at once I was reduced to the little girl who used to cower under the table, shaking violently as the heavy boots stepped closer and closer.

"Ok yeah give me a call," I said. There was a slight tremor in my voice, and I hated myself for it. Sebastian didn't seem to notice. He was already taking off down the street, phone to his ear. I sighed with relief once he was out of sight. My senses came tumbling back, and the situation I was in seemed innocuous in hindsight. I guess I overreacted. Magnus had to coach me on what acceptable behaviour towards men was after a few instances where I told men off for objectifying me. I always assumed men were out to get me—product of my father's treatment of me. And I had to learn what was considered harmless behaviour and what was considered dangerous. I had a hard time discerning the distance between the two.

My car pulled up, and I debated my response on the way back to the Institute. Once I got inside, my mind was focused on getting into Hodge's office. I headed towards his office, avoiding the cleaners as I passed. I didn't know how faithful they were to Hodge. If one of them mentioned I was snooping around his office, I wasn't sure if I'd be welcomed back to the Institute.

The door to the study was unlocked. When I entered, I was once again struck by the smell of old books and polished leather. It relaxed me, which gave me the courage to continue with my investigation. Again, I picked the lock to his desk. But when I opened the drawer, I found it empty.

I tried not to let the disappointment swallow me whole. Of course Hodge would have files with Jace's name on it. He was his lawyer. The document I found the other day was most likely a run-of-the-mill document. The despair that coursed through me paused when I noticed a business card on Hodge's desk. It was a finished in black matte with silver embossed letters that said, "Shadowhunter's Private Security." I flipped the card over and scribbled on the back in silver ink was the name Raziel.

A plan started to take shape in my mind. One that was crazy—crazy enough that it might actually work.

I dialed Magnus's number.

"I need a favor."

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	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

"I don't like this, Clary," Magnus said, looking out of the window of his office. His office overlooked Pandemonium's main room and stage. Magnus designed it that way so he could always see what was going on in his club. He had cameras in the back rooms where private lap dances were given. He knew everyone and everything: he was the overlord, the master of Pandemonium.

Which explains why he was so upset about me taking control.

I joined him at the window, surveying my work. Members from the Shadowhunter's private security firm milled about the floor, taking advantage of the generous gift from Hodge Starkweather. When I found the card on Hodge's desk, I knew it was the same security firm he hired to undermine the investigation and potentially hide evidence from Luke. I called Luke immediately after I found the card.

"Well I could give them call, although I'm not sure that will do any good," Luke had told me. "They won't tell me anything to protect their client. And since a judge won't approve a warrant, there's no way I can apprehend whatever it is they may have found."

I mentioned to Luke my growing distrust of Hodge, while avoiding the details about Raphael. I wondered if Jace's secret was pertinent to our case. But I decided against it. I didn't feel like it was my secret to tell. Plus, Jace was just coming to terms with what happened. It wouldn't be right to force him into the spotlight.

Luke told me that I shouldn't worry myself about the case, but that he'd look into Hodge. While I believed he'd do everything in his power to investigate Hodge, I also knew the limitations of the law. But something Luke had said struck a chord.

"These kinds of men aren't likely to talk to the police."

Sure scrupulous men didn't talk to the police, but they sure as hell couldn't shut up when they were talking to strippers.

And thus, my plan was born.

I sent a 'thank you' note to the Shadowhunter's agency from Hodge offering Raziel and his team a discount at Pandemonium for tonight. I had one of my drivers take me to the agency so I could make sure they got the message. And to no one's surprise, the security team was currently taking advantage of discount drinks and lap dances. I convinced Magnus it would help out my case. I was surprised that he caved. I think he was harbouring some unresolved guilt from putting me in danger. I should have assured him that he wasn't to blame, but instead I took advantage of the situation.

I tried not to think that doing so made me a bad person. I wasn't like Valentine. I didn't use people—take advantage of their vulnerability. I would eventually tell Magnus he shouldn't feel responsible. Everything would be fine then.

I glanced around the club for Maia. I didn't trust anyone else to complete the next stage of this mission except her. Her job was to get one of the men alone and get him to spill about what they were doing at the Institute. I would've done it myself, but I was afraid of getting made. Surely these men knew who I was and would probably report back to Hodge that I was asking questions.

"How do you suppose Maia is going to get the information from a professional?" Magnus asked.

"You and I both know the fragility of men's egos. Guys who came here will practically admit anything if they think it'll get them a minute longer with us," I said.

It was true. Men were clumsy with their secrets. I once had a guy admit to me that he was a senator right before he offered me a bump. Another man let it slip that he was a high-ranking member of an elite security detail and that he could get me a meeting with his client. Powerful men wanted to brag about their accomplishments, and since our business traded in secrets, they let their guard down around us.

"I just hope she knows what she's doing," Magnus said. As much as he'd deny it if asked, he was worried. Magnus cared about his girls. He felt responsible for our wellbeing. Guilt blossomed inside of me. This was my chance to alleviate his guilt. Instead, I focused on finding Maia.

When I asked Maia to help me, she seemed thrilled to be playing spy. She'd take any opportunity to take advantage of a man. She never talked about her past, but I had a feeling that, like me, she had a deep distrust of men. Although unlike me, she constantly put herself in situations where she could rectify her past. I avoided men. She sought them out, luring them in with false smiles and batted lashes. She always found a way to make them feel small and insignificant—how men used to make her feel.

It wasn't until she met Bat that her tyrannical reign as a black widow ended. He was the first man that she could trust, that made her feel sane. No matter how much she pushed him or let her trust issues take over, he was always patient.

"She's got one," I said, watching as Maia towards the back room, and a man followed like a moth to a flame. I resisted the urge to follow as well. I wanted to be in this investigation. It killed me standing on the sidelines.

"So what's your man doing tonight?" Magnus asked. I glanced over at him. He was standing by the bar globe pouring amber liquid into a crystal glass. I hadn't told Magnus about my relationship with Jace.

"What are you talking about," I asked, crossing my arms. I reluctantly pulled myself from the window and joined Magnus for a drink.

"Please, child. I saw how you acted the last time you brought that golden dollop here. Plus, you keep checking your phone," he said, bringing the drink to his lips. He cocked an eyebrow, daring me to argue.

"What of him?" I sighed in resignation. With Magnus it was always better just to answer his questions. He would either catch you in a lie or wear you down until you tell him.

"So are you two are a bit of a thing?" Magnus asked, his face breaking into his famous Cheshire grin.

"We're...I'm not sure what we are," I admitted.

"Have you talked to him about it?"

I didn't have much chance to talk to Jace about my revelation in the coffee shop this morning. After leaving Hodge's office with my newfound plan to get information from the private security firm, I got a phone call from Jace. I hadn't planned on telling him what I was doing at first.

"Hey, remember how you thought it was odd that Hodge didn't tell me that Raphael was recovering? Well I didn't think too much of it. But just before I went to class, I asked Hodge about Raphael's condition, and he straight up lied to me saying the doctors' weren't optimistic. I didn't tell him what I knew, but I went back to the hospital to confirm what we found out last night. And they told me the same thing we learned—that Raphael was doing better and expected to wake up permanently soon." Jace's words rushed out of him. I wondered if it had anything to do with the adrenaline pumping through his veins from visiting the hospital again.

"Why wouldn't Hodge want you to know about this?" I asked. My unease regarding Hodge was exasperated.

"I'm not sure..." he trailed off. I'm sure it wasn't easy for him to suspect a man he knew most of his life.

"I found a file in Hodge's office with your name on it the other day, and when I went today to check out what it was gone. Do you think it could have anything to do with the case?" I asked.

"I mean, I guess. He's my lawyer—he probably has multiple confidential documents regarding me. He's being paid to look out for my best interests." Jace responded.

Luke had echoed that same sentiment earlier. Even if that file I found had nothing to do with the case, I was still suspicious of Hodge. He could very well be undermining the case to make Jace appear innocent. But why? It's not as if Jace had orchestrated the attempted assassination. He was a victim in this just as much as I was. I had to find out what Hodge was hiding.

"Hodge hired a private security team to sweep the Institute," I said.

"What? Did he find anything?"

"I'm not sure. Luke—Detective Garroway—wasn't privy to the results." 

"I thought he'd be working with the NYPD to help solve this."

"Maybe those aren't his intentions," I said softly.

"I could ask him if the security team found anything," Jace suggested.

"Do you think he'd tell you the truth?"

Jace was quiet. He was probably thinking what I was thinking. If Hodge lied about Raphael what else would he lie about?

"So we have no way of knowing if my place was bugged?" Jace asked. My heart trilled at the use of 'we.' I loved to think we were in this together—even though 'this' was an attempted murder investigation.

"Well...I sort of have a plan."

After I told him about it, I couldn't tell if he thought I was crazy or a genius—maybe a combination of both. But he supported it nonetheless, saying that we should open up a detective agency afterwards. We decided to push our plans to the next night, considering I wanted to stay at Pandemonium to get the info from Maia, and I wasn't sure how long that'd take. Jace wanted to come and meet me at Pandemonium, but we ended up agreeing it was too risky to involve him. If Hodge, or worse, Maryse got wind of his whereabouts, the whole operation could go under.

It sucked because I was looking forward to seeing Jace tonight—and not just because his lips were so damn kissable. I wanted to broach the subject of us: find out where he was and if our relationship could be anything more than a product bonding over shared trauma.

But the case came first. It seemed that all my life, love was just out of reach. There was always something more important, more pressing that needed my attention. Or love was snatched out from under me like a trap door at a cheap magic show.

I swirled the amber liquid in my glass. The movement of color reminded me of my mother—her dancing in the apartment, tawny hair chasing her shoulders. I set the drink down. I didn't want to think of the love I once had.

"No, I haven't," I said, answering Magnus's question.

But I didn't need to respond. Magnus already knew my answer. I could tell he wanted to say something, but I didn't give him the chance. I walked out of his office, not entirely sure where I was headed. I couldn't walk the floor in case I got recognized. Maia wasn't finished getting information. I found myself standing in the alley next to Pandemonium breathing in the night air. I leaned against the brick wall and closed my eyes, desperate to push down the hopeless feelings that swelled with the reminder of my mother. I wished more than anything I could talk to her about my feelings for Jace. What would she say if she were here? Would she echo Simon's earlier statements that Jace wasn't good for me or would she emulate a Disney princess matriarch and tell me to follow my heart?

The sound of clanging metal startled me out of my reverie. I glanced around. The lip of the alley seemed so far away. Was it darker than normal too? I glanced at the light above the side door to Pandemonium. It flickered, weakly giving out life until it fizzled into darkness. A chill ran through me. I felt an overwhelming compulsion to head back inside. When I tried the door, I found it was locked. I banged against the metal, knowing it was futile. There was a hallway that separated the girls' dressing room from this exit. And on top of that, the girls' usually blasted music while getting ready. I'd have to go around through the front door. Hopefully I could sneak in without being noticed by anyone.

Suddenly, a hand clamped around my mouth stopping my scream from reaching fruition. I forced my elbow backwards, catching my attacker in the abdomen. I heard a grunt and felt the arm around me slacken. I used this opportunity to turn around. It was just in time to see the flash of the knife coming towards me. I blocked the jab with my arm. I saw the blood before I felt the pain.

 _Block. Shove away. Use elbow. Thrust upward. Run away._

My self-defence instructor's words rang through my mind matching the pounding of heart. I managed to drive the palm of my hand into my attacker's face. He dropped the knife as his hands covered his nose. I used this opportunity to run. My legs pounded against the concrete, until I felt arms wrap around my waist. I was lifted in the air. I thrashed, flailing my extremities, all rational thoughts and techniques were forgotten. I let out a scream, only to again be muffled by the man's hands. I bit down. Hard.

He partially let go of me, and I tried to make another run for it. But his grip on me caused both of us to topple over. He landed on top of me. I used my fists like hammers, striking out blindly and erratically. His hands closed around my throat, unrelenting and demanding. Desperation began to overtake me, as the edges of my vision blackened. I clawed at his hands, peeling the skin around his knuckles. The animalistic part of me wanted to fight back, to overcome the pain, to survive. The rational part of me knew it was futile.

I was dying.

And the last thing I would ever see is the dirty, angry face of a man who enjoyed taking my life into his hands. But even that image began to fade as I slowly slipped away. And I forced myself to think of something beautiful. Golden light replaced the dark. I might've smiled at that moment. I couldn't be sure.

The pressure stopped at the same time a smattering of warmth hit my face. The golden light faded, and I felt a deep sense of loss. It was replaced instantly by a combination of relief and pain. Air scraped against my larynx. I opened my eyes to see my attacker slumped over, a bullet between his eyes.

I quickly pushed the assailant off of me and scrambled away from him. It was with a shocking clarity that I recognized the man. It was the same guy who attacked Jace and me in the hotel room. Before I could register what I was seeing, a voice sounded from the distance.

"Clary? Oh my god. Clary!" The pounding in my head subdued everything around me as if I was underwater. One of the girls came running over, cigarette dangling from her fingers. She screamed when she saw the dead man.

"Call Luke," I choked out.

Her flight or fight response took over her compassion. She tossed me her phone and ran back inside screaming. I wasn't surprised. I've been in this business long enough to know that girls that toe the line of legality don't like to stick around crime scenes. I grabbed her phone and swiped to open, smearing blood across the screen. I typed in Luke's number, and I hoped he would answer an unknown number.

"Hello?"

I breathed a ragged sigh of relief, wincing in pain.

"It's Clary." I tried to clear my throat. I flinched again. "Someone attacked me outside of Pandemonium."

"Are you hurt?" He asked, straight to business.

My whole body hurt, but the searing pain in my arm dominated making me think that my knife wound was worse than I thought.

"Yeah," I said.

"I'm already on my way. I'll call the paramedics to meet us. Stay on the line with me until I get there. Can you get inside Pandemonium—somewhere safe?"

"That's the thing—I think I am safe." I quickly explained what happened. "Who do you think shot him?"

"I don't know, Clary. I—"

"Jesus, Clary! What happened?" Magnus ran to me. "Are you hurt? Look at all this blood! That is not coming out of that dress. You're just going to have to throw it out..."

"Hold on, Luke," I said into my phone, as Magnus continued to talk.

"I suppose that doesn't really matter at this juncture. Who did this—oh my god! Is he dead? Shit, this is not good. My clients...They're not going to come back. A police investigation is going to destroy the anonymity this place requires to thrive."

"Magnus," I rasped, waving away his reservations. "Don't worry. Luke is on his way. He'll handle this discreetly." I gave him a pointed look. "Like he did before." 

"Right, yes. That delicious hunk of law knows how to work magic. Back to you, _mon cheri_. What happened?"

My nose wrinkled at the description of Luke. I explained what happened in as few words as possible. My throat ached with every word.

It didn't take long for Luke to show up. He was in an umarked sedan, lights flashing to allow him to speed. He ran from the car, forgetting to close the door. I stood up when I saw him coming and slumped into his embrace. He held me tightly, clutching the back of my head to his chest. The sense of relief and safety overwhelmed me.

Luke only let go when the paramedics arrived. At first I didn't want to go with them. I was five again—my first day of kindergarten. I clutched my mother's bohemian skirt, as she spoke softly how much I'd love going to school. My father sat in the car, honking impatiently. She told me not to be afraid and that she'd never let any harm come to me. And I believed her.

As the paramedics bandaged my arm—they assured me it didn't need stiches but still suggested that I go to the hospital, which I declined—Luke had me run through the events of the night again.

 _Did he say anything? Did I see who shot him? Did I notice anything out of the ordinary? Was Jace anywhere in the vicinity?_

I told him again what I remembered, but I knew it wasn't helpful. I sighed in frustration, absentmindedly rubbing my bruised neck.

"What does this all mean, Luke?" I asked.

"I don't know..." 

But I knew he did. Or at least he had his theories. And since he didn't want to share them with me, I could infer they weren't positive. The appearance of the second shooter rocked the boat. Did I have a warped guardian angel looking out for me? Or was that bullet meant for me?

"If you're okay, I'll take you back to the Lightwood Manor," Luke said, finally, looking down at his watch. I was sure he wanted to get back to the station and work on the new developments of this case.

I glanced back at Pandemonium with regret. I wanted to hear what Maia found out about Hodge, but I couldn't risk exposing my plan to Luke. He was overprotective to a fault. I appreciated his concern for me. But if he found out I orchestrated a heist to obtain information from dangerous individuals, he'd be furious. I texted Maia.

 _something came up. call you later about deets._

The ride home was filled with silence. Luke didn't say much. I could tell he was frustrated. All he wanted to do was protect me, and I kept finding myself inches from death. I caught my reflection in the rear view mirror. A fierce red ring circled my neck. I zipped the NYPD windbreaker Luke lent me. But as soon as I zipped the collar, the fabric tightened around my neck. I gasped and unzipped the jacket. Even the collar around my shirt felt suffocating. Luke glanced over at me. I tried to smile, but it probably came off as a grimace.

We drove to the gates of the Institute. It towered over us, just as unwelcoming as when I first arrived.

"Do you know the code?" Luke asked.

Unfortunately, I didn't. Any time I went past these gates, I was chauffeured. Fortunately, there was an intercom to page the house for when guests showed up. Luke paged the house, stating our names and we were buzzed through. When we got to the front door, I was surprised to see Hodge waiting.

"This can't be good," Luke said, under his breath. I glanced back at Hodge. He certainly didn't look happy. And why was he awake at this hour?

"Have there been any developments in the case, detective?" Hodge asked, as Luke got out of the car. I followed suit. "Clary?" Hodge glanced at me, surprised. "What happened?"

Luke sighed.

"Clary was in an altercation earlier," Luke said. "We're not sure yet if it has anything to do with the case."

"Not sure? Forgive me detective, but the whole premise Jace's involvement in this case is that he was with Clarissa when they got attacked. Now there seems to be overwhelming evidence that Clary is the sole victim of these crimes. I don't see how Jace or his family should be subjected to this investigation any further."

"What are you saying?" I asked before Luke had a chance to respond.

"I wish you all the luck, Clarissa, but I'm afraid we're going to have to distance ourselves from you until this matter gets settled. You're going to need to find a new place to live."

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	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

"What?" I choked out, wincing as the words scraped along my larynx.

"Let's not be hasty," Luke said, in a steely voice. "At this juncture there is no way of telling if this latest altercation has any bearing on the case. You'd be doing your client a huge disservice assuming he's safe."

Hodge just shook his head.

"Look, the fact of the matter is Clarissa has been the sole victim—what with the listening devices found in her apartment and the not one, but _two_ attempts on her life—I just can't see the benefit of endangering my client any further letting him be involved with this...this _magnet_ for danger."

I winced at his words. As much as I wanted to be angry with Hodge, I recognized his point. Hell, I'd come to that same conclusion at my lowest point: Jace was better off without me. I'd just have to face this on my own—like I'd always done. What would I do without the private security detail? Maybe I could escape to Mexico. Would Valentine think to look for me there? The only snag in that plan would be the fortune I'd have to drop on sunscreen. But I'd always wanted to paint desert landscapes...

"With all due respect, I can't be sure there weren't any listening devices found at Mr. Wayland's residence considering you hired outside help to hide any dirty laundry," Luke said dryly. I was surprised at his bluntness. Normally, Luke was docile and didn't let anything get to him. But I'm sure the events of the night frayed his composure as it did mine.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're implying," Hodge responded, a bit snippily.

My ears were still ringing from the earlier suffocation, and I found myself zoning out to plan my newfound escape to Mexico. My biggest worry stemmed from the language barrier? How would I speak to the locals? All I knew was French. Before my mom got sick we used to plan future trips to France. My mother wanted to paint the Mediterranean, and I wanted to eat croissants and wear a kicky beret. At that point all I knew about Paris was from what I saw in the Olsen twin's movie. We used to butcher French greetings, as I'd leave for school every day. She'd say, ' _Bonne journée_ " but it'd come off as " _Bonny Journey_." And I'd say, " _à bientôt_ " with an overly exaggerated French accent—missing every appropriate syllable in favor of sounding nasally. Even after she died, I still vowed to learn the language—taking all the classes I could in high school and even minoring in the language at TMI. One day, I'll get my chance to go to France. And I'll paint the whole ocean. For her.

Luke and Hodge were still arguing—the kind of arguing adults do where they trade witticisms back and forth through strained smiles, never letting the other person know how pissed off they are.

"We had a deal, Mr. Starkweather. I would hate to go back on my end." This caused Hodge's smile to slip. I glanced at Luke. I knew he was an imposing guy—he had to be as a detective for the NYPD. But I never knew quite how menacing he could be. I was grateful to be on his side.

"Pardon me, but are you threatening me?" Hodge said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm just confused because, surely, a detective of your stature wouldn't miscarry justice in such a grotesque manner. I'm sure your superiors would find this interesting."

Luke smiled. But it wasn't a smile I recognized. It was wolfish, like at any moment Luke would rip out Hodge's throat.

"Interesting hand to play. But as you're well aware, even if I'm removed from this case, there's no guarantee your client's indiscretions stay under lock and key. I find it hard to keep secrets when there's nothing in it for me."

I glanced at Luke, surprised by his callousness. This wasn't the Luke I knew—the Luke who used to draw hearts on my Band-Aids because he didn't have the ones with Scooby Doo on them that I liked. The Luke who, even though he couldn't eat ice cream, took me every time I got straight A's. The Luke who left the hall light on without me asking because he knew, not that I was afraid of the dark, but that I was afraid of what was lurking in the shadows. This was a different Luke. This was a Luke who would sacrifice his kindness to keep me safe. This Luke could take down Valentine.

Before Hodge could respond, a rumbling sounded off in the distance. We all turned to look as a sleek black motorcycle pulled up the driveway. The lights blinded all of us momentarily. Luke pushed me behind him, unsure of the approaching threat.

The motorcycle hesitated about 50 feet from us and then zoomed towards us unabashed. After the driver killed the lights, he removed his helmet revealing a familiar sheen of blonde that most girls, and guys, would kill to have.

Jace sent a broad grin in our direction, much to the annoyance of Hodge.

"I seem to recall getting rid of that monstrosity," Hodge said, his voice thin with patience.

"I bought a new one," Jace said with a casual shrug. He still straddled the bike, as if unsure if he wanted to join our impromptu meeting or bolt.

"And the fact that you're breaking the rules didn't occur to you?"

This statement seemed to send a surge of confidence through Jace. He chuckled and climbed off the bike saying, "you always told me that rules were for people who can't add another zero to a check."

This elicited a small smile from Hodge, which was gone the moment it flashed across his face.

"I see your business acumen is still intact. But I'm less certain about your sense of self-preservation."

Jace sauntered towards us. His eyes took in the situation from afar, and I felt my breath catch. Once they met mine, it was like a puzzle piece slipping into place. A genuine smile escaped from his indifferent mask. That same smile halted the moment his eyes met my neck, and the moment burst to reveal a sobering reality.

"Shit, Clary, what happened?" He forgot his saunter and ran over to me. He embraced me with a protective arm and lifted my chin with his other hand. It was all too much—the way his hand touched my lower back bringing both comfort and a flare of something else; the way his golden eyes churned with passion, desire, anger as they took in my state; the feather-light touch of his fingers tracing the bruises that somehow erased the memory of calloused hands squeezing. I was painfully aware that Hodge and Luke were analysing our embrace, drawing conclusions, adding cards to their deck. My weakness was on display.

I gently untangled myself from Jace, whose hand hovered in the air for a moment before sliding into his pocket. I ignored the flash of hurt on Jace's face.

"Clarissa was attacked outside of Pandemonium," Hodge said. Jace didn't turn to look at him, instead waiting for me to corroborate the story.

I nodded about to explain the story, when Hodge interjected.

"And I've come to the unfortunate conclusion that it is Clarissa alone who is the victim of these last few attacks."

This caused a knee-jerk reaction from Jace, who immediately spun around to glare at Hodge.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Hodge began, barely holding back a sigh. He clearly wasn't in the mood to argue his position with another person. "In order to keep you safe, it would be best for Clarissa to move out."

"No. Absolutely not," Jace said, with such conviction it surprised all of us.

"I'm sorry, Jonathan. But this isn't your decision. Clarissa has proven to be a liability, and I can't, with good conscience—" This caused a derisive snort from Luke. "let you affiliate with someone with such a strong penchant for danger."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Jace said, barely keeping the anger out of his voice.

"I'm sure Mayrse would agree with me that this is for the best," Hodge said, trying to saddle more favor for his plan.

"I don't give a fuck what Mayrse and you think about what's best for me. Clary is staying here."

I was well aware that the more Jace fought for me, the more apparent our relationship became. Despite that, I enjoyed the feeling of him fighting for me.

"Jonathan, be reasonable. There's nothing that's tying you to this case anymore."

"I was attacked. And Clary wasn't around," Jace said suddenly.

Hodge's composure fractured slightly. I glanced at Jace. What was he up to?

"I beg your pardon," Hodge said.

"Yeah the other week, I was out for a run in the park and someone tried to jump me." He displayed his leg, showing the scar from our earlier run in. Jace avoided my eyes, lest a glance between us gave anything away.

Hodge raised an eyebrow in disbelief but didn't say anything. Jace's confession shifted the balance.

"And why didn't you mention this before?" Hodge asked.

Jace shrugged, too at ease for a conversation that determined whether I could get elite protection.

"I guess I was embarrassed the guy got the jump on me."

The statement wasn't true because there was no guy in the park that attacked Jace, but it felt honest. I decided to chalk it up to toxic masculinity.

I couldn't tell if Hodge believed him or not, but Hodge dropped the issue.

"You should submit an official statement to Detective Garroway. And, Clarissa, I suppose there's no reason to act hastily regarding your tenure here."

Jace squeezed my arm in delight. I, however, didn't share his enthusiasm. Hodge was putting on a show for everyone, but I could see the trapdoor underneath. More than ever, I needed to talk to Maia about the dirt she got on Hodge. The sooner I could get proof, the sooner Luke could tie it into his investigation. I was desperate for anyone else to the bad guy. Anyone but my father.

"Detective, since it's late, I will make an appointment tomorrow for Jace to discuss this event. Hopefully, this new information will speed up this investigation," Hodge added, not subtly indicating he was displeased with the pace of the investigation.

He opened the front door of the Institute and held open for Jace and I. As much as I wanted to go inside and take a long, hot shower, I knew my night was far from over.

"Clary, can I have a word?" Luke said, his tone indicative of a command, not a question. I sighed. I knew Luke wasn't going to let me get away easily. I nodded to Jace and he went ahead, looking back before the Institute's gargantuan door closed. Luke watched this exchange, which only heightened my anger. Why couldn't Jace be more discrete? With every smoldering look, he's essentially making out with me in front of people who will tear into what is a fragile relationship. "So, do you want to explain what exactly is going on?"

Luke's tone was harsh, something I wasn't used to hearing from him. All we were missing was a chair and a swinging light bulb to make this interrogation complete. I thought about the most believable way I could lie about the situation.

"Jace didn't actually get attacked. We were running in Central Park and he tripped."

Luke waited for me to say more, allowing the silence to wrap around me like a vice. It was a technique I was aware of. The more uncomfortable I felt, the more I would talk and the likelihood of accidentally admitting something increases. Part of me was kind of annoyed that Luke was treating me like a common criminal. But mostly, I recognized that Luke was worried about me and was doing this out of love.

"So Jace and you were out running? At night?" Luke crossed his arms.

I nodded.

"Alone?"

"Well, we were with each other."

"Clary."

"Yes. We were alone."

"So you and Jace were out together at night alone, and you thought this was a smart decision?"

Irritation flared through me.

"I guess I wasn't thinking," I said, avoiding the question.

"Yeah seems like it," Luke said tightly. "Is this something you and Jace do often?"

"Run?"

"Do things alone. Don't think I haven't noticed the lingering glances and carefully placed hands."

I felt my cheeks redden. I figured he'd notice but was he really going to stand here and make me define what Jace and I were. ' _Well so far we're mostly making out and doing things that makes me want to abandon my morals. But yeah we're also going to clubs and frat houses without any back up, against all common sense and both your and Hodge's orders.'_

I didn't say anything. Luke sighed and lowered his arms. It seemed that Cop Luke was gone, replaced with Soft Luke that didn't know the intricacies of being a parent but desperately wanted to be a good one. He rubbed his eyes, clearly sleep-deprived. I felt guilty. I've been more of a hindrance to this investigation than I've been helpful. It seemed that I would never be able to escape this curse of being a burden to everyone around me. First, my father. Then, the Lightwoods. And now, Luke.

"I didn't think I'd have to remind you how dangerous it is to consort with these people."

Embarrassment mixed with shame. Not only was Luke disappointed in my choices, but he assumed I was willingly forgoing my safety in order to make out with a cute boy. The statement was also heavy with allusions to my mother and her choice to be with Valentine.

"I'm not her, you know," I said, quietly. It wasn't helpful to point that out. And as soon as I saw the look of hurt flash across Luke's face, I knew I should've just shut up.

"And yet you're making her same mistakes,"

The anger, shame, guilt all blazed together, licking at my sense of worth. Luke's gaze felt like teeth piercing my skin. I wanted to scream, to call out his audacity. I wanted to say hurtful things—things that would cut him, would make him regret ever comparing me to the woman who let everything happen to her. I wanted to say that I'm nothing like her. But I don't know if that would be a defense or an admission of inferiority. Because the truth was, I wanted to be like her. She was everything to me. She could turn tears into laughter and pain into hope. But ultimately, she turned love into an eternity of suffering and that's how both Luke and I would always remember her.

"I want to go to bed. I'm tired, and there's still blood on me for fuck's sake," I said, trying and failing to control my rage.

"I just want to you to be safe," Luke said, appearing to step back from the minefield we were treading on. "Jace doesn't deserve you."

"You don't even know him," I said, stubbornly.

"I know more than you do about his world. And trust me, it's not a place you want to be. He'll spit you out and move on to the next tasty thing when this case is over."

I cringed at the phrasing. It was weird to be referred by your pseudo-father as a 'tasty thing,' even if he didn't say it directly. This wasn't anything new. If it wasn't my own mind telling me Jace was candy-coated poison, it was Simon saying I shouldn't trust him. He was a billionaire meant for a life of trading expensive secrets in dark rooms with white lines on the tables. That was the life my father chose. And I didn't want any part of it then, and I didn't want any part of it now.

I didn't come to Jace's defense. I didn't believe he was as ruthless as Luke suggested, but I wasn't about to admit that Jace and I had an expiration date—something that loomed over us, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. I knew I'd be in too deep when it all imploded, leaving me mangled and broken. But it was like watching a train wreck; I wouldn't let up the gas until I'd seen it through—even if that meant crashing on my own.

"Is there anything else?" I said, indicating I was no longer willing to continue this vein of conversation.

Luke's gaze hardened. He wasn't used to my obstinacy. We were usually on the same page about what was good for me. And technically we both agreed Jace was bad news, but we couldn't agree on me staying away from him.

"I'm going to pull some resources together to set up a safe house for you. I think it's best we get you out of this place as soon as we can."

I nodded but didn't say anything. Hodge didn't want me around, and soon enough he'd get his way. It was good to start preparing for that outcome. However, I couldn't help but notice the other aspect of that plan: moving me out of the Institute moves me away from Jace.

Luke reached over to hug me, unsure. This hesitation caused my throat to tighten with unshed tears. I grasped him firmly, hoping that the strength of my arms could revive this awkward hug. I couldn't lose Luke. I just couldn't.

To my immense relief, he dropped the pretense and enveloped me fully.

"I'll find out who's doing this to you," he promised, squeezing me for emphasis.

I believed him. I really did. But he wasn't a super hero. What if he couldn't? What if he lost? Valentine would come for me. And not even my active imagination could predict what he'd do to me. My mind immediately went to Jace. If worst came to worst, would he remain unscathed? Or have I condemned him by mere association? I knew Valentine lacked empathy, and he wouldn't take any prisoners.

Luke saw me safely inside the Institute. I made my way to my room, Jace's safety still lingering in my mind. If Valentine was behind all of this, I'd need to leave. I couldn't risk Jace and his family. The sooner I talked to Maia, the better.

I walked into the room and flipped on the light. I quickly scanned the room, eyes catching on a slip of paper resting on my pillow.

 _Meet me at our place._

 _-Jace_

The corner of my lip pulled up. It was soon displaced by the pressing fact that I couldn't keep Jace in the dark any longer. I wasn't quite sure how he'd react. There wasn't a pamphlet describing how one comes out and says ' _my homicidal father might be trying to kill me, and you're in danger because you're hanging out with me_.' Any rational person would hightail it out of there. They would react like Hodge and kick me to the curb.

If I were a better person, I'd leave quietly into the night and find a place where my father couldn't reach me or anyone else that I cared about. During some of my lowest points—nights I spent contorted in the cabinets under my bathroom sink because I thought someone had followed me or I got a strange phone call—I'd wonder what it'd be like if I just gave in, if I let Valentine find me. Would his torture be better than the life I was living, a life of fear, of furtive glances over the shoulder, of never staying in one place too long lest I get comfortable and slip up?

I thought again of that option. I hated my life under Valentine's thumb. Everything I said and did was monitored. If I so much as looked at Valentine the wrong way, I was punished for it. And then there were the days when he was almost nice. He'd buy me a new dress or get my favorite Chinese food order. We'd sit in a comfortable silence—him, reading the news or writing in his red leather journal, me, trying to be as good as possible in order to capitalize on his good mood. It would always end too soon. I'd either be chewing in an unladylike fashion or the dress wouldn't fit. There was always something that would set him off, and the meager happiness I had grasped onto would only serve as a reminder to how things could be, not how they were. I hated the hope that things would get better—the thought that if I was better, if I said the rights things, looked less like my mother, chewed more softly, then I could win over my father. He would open his arms to his love, and I could finally be happy. Every night, I thought of that hope. And as the nights passed and the mornings came and Valentine still criticized me, that hope became a weapon that I turned on myself. Because it was me who was getting in the way, it was me who couldn't be what Valentine wanted.

That self-hatred took years to overcome. It still flared up—when a painting didn't turn out the way I wanted, when I couldn't perform an Iron X on the pole, and even now when I washed the blood off me in the shower and thought ' _how did I let myself get into this situation?_ ' I should have been smarter. I shouldn't have gone outside in the first place.

I tried to ignore the cacophony of guilt and blame as I dried off. I inspected the bruising around my neck. It was red and angry, obnoxiously bold against my fair skin. This actually made me hopeful. Maybe it wasn't Valentine's man. Valentine knew how to avoid bruising.

I took a few painkillers Luke had given me before he left. The adrenaline was wearing off, replaced by aches and reminders of calloused fingers. After putting on an over-sized t-shirt with a stretched-out collar, I went to meet Jace.

I found Jace placing ice cubes in his orchid. I immediately wondered if this was _the_ orchid. He was so focused, I wasn't sure he knew I arrived.

"This is the last reminder I have of my mother," Jace said softly. The petals were a bright purple with dark veins. The plant had chalk white roots that reminded me of bony fingers reaching for life. He stroked the thick, rubbery leaves with a tenderness that caused my heart to ache. Everyone liked to point out that we had nothing in common, myself included. But as I watched him affectionately take care of the plant, I realized with startling clarity how similar we were, how much we've both lost.

Maybe we weren't just a product of coincidence. Maybe we were drawn to each other because we were two broken pieces that felt complete with each other. Maybe there could be a future for us. But if so, I couldn't keep holding back. I needed to be open, honest—something I've been avoiding my whole life because I never believed someone could bear my burdens. But Jace...Maybe he was different. He'd carried his own guilt and sorrow, and he was stronger for it. Maybe he could handle mine.

I took a deep breath and tried to steel my resolve.

"Jace, I have something to tell you."


End file.
